


Of Gillyweed and Toads

by sksdwrld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds out that he hasn't got a stomach bug after all.  The condition is much, much more serious than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

”Where’s Madame Pomfrey?” Harry groaned from his cot, new anxiety washing over him at the sight of Snape.

Professor Snape’s lips curled into a tight, thin lipped smile. “She has been in the library, researching your condition, and then to speak with the headmaster,” 

”M-my condition?” Harry stammered. “What’s wrong with me then?”

“Amphibious reassignment,” Snape’s murmur was smug.

“Amphibian what?!” Harry squawked.

“It would appear that you chose not to fully investigate the effects of the Gillyweed you pilfered from my supply room before using it to aide you in the tournament…”His pause was timed perfectly and sent Harry’s bloodpressure skyward. “One of the unfortunate side effects of oral consumption in the dried form is that it’s influences are concentrated and therefore much longer lasting than if used fresh.”

“Get to the point!” Harry snapped.

Snape frowned. “Very well…Gillyweed is known to convey, besides temporary gills, other amphibious characteristics, including those of a reproductive nature.”

“Merlin! I’m turning into a toad!?” Harry gasped.

“No, you ignorant twit!” Snape snapped. “It is a well known fact that some amphibians harbor hermaphroditic qualities, and when faced with unequal ratios of the female or male sex, are quite capable of physically reverting to the other, in order to maintain species continuity.”

Harry stared dumbly.

Snape rolled his eyes. “You dorming situation combined with the Gillyweed has convinced your body to alter it’s physical nature to a state capable of impregnation. In many Wizards, this side effect has not proved significant, but it appears that you’ve a penchant for…coupling with members of your own sex. Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You’re the thirteenth wizard in recorded history to conceive a child.” He grimaced.

Harry processed the information slowly, and when all the pieces clicked into place, felt a sudden wave of nausea roll over him. He ducked and turned to the side, heaving the remnants of his breakfast into the bin.

“Morning sickness.” Snape said grimly.

“It is not, either!” Harry shouted, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve only just found out that I’m…I’m…are you certain?”

”Very much so, Potter. It is like you to question my expertise, isn’t it?”

Harry fell uncharacteristically silent.

“Care to divulge the father of your spawn? Knowledge of their lineage may prove useful in sorting out any future diseases that may crop up.”

Harry’s gut rolled again, and he heaved. “Oh, Gods…isn’t there something I can take to…to…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“Get rid of it?” Snape’s normally expressionless face took on a look of momentary surprise. “No, I’m afraid not. Not without consent from both contributing parties, anyway…If you had a name, we might be able to convince him…”

”Absolutely not!” Harry shook his head vehemently and bit his lip.

“Carrying another Weasley, perhaps?”

The idea veritably repulsed Harry. “Ew, no. No, he’s not even…I mean he doesn’t know that I…just…no.”

“Longbottom? Finnegan? Finch-Fletchly?” Snape guessed.

Harry shook his head again.

“Very well, then , Potter. Special considerations will have to be made for you, though I’m certain that you believe you are entitled to them…. but do not think we can hide your condition for very long. No matter. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you, so you might as well be off to your classes. If you change your mind, I’m sure the wizarding community at large will be waiting on pins and needles for your news.”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times before he scrambled off the bed and snatched up his robes. How could he be expected to carry on as usual with the knowledge that he was carrying a baby within his belly?

” The headmaster is sure to want to speak with you this afternoon,” Snape shook his head. “I trust you will make yourself available?”

Harry nodded numbly. He placed a hand over his belly. He wasn’t certain that he could go through with taking a potion anyway. It was a baby, his baby, and as much a part of him that he was of his parents. As much a part of him as it was of Malfoy…

“And Potter?” Snape’s happiness was certain. “Since your condition precludes flying…I’ll thank you now for handing Slytherin the Quidditch trophy, and by proxy, the house cup.”

 

He crammed his feet into his trainers and scowled. Sod the Gillyweed and sod Draco Malfoy. Turning into a toad might be preferable, at this point, to facing the idea that his brilliant one-off had just turned into the biggest nightmare of the century.


	2. Chapter 2

"Draco." The look on Lucius' face was one that Draco had learned to fear in early childhood. It was impassive and calm, but his eyes full of fiery rage.

 

Draco lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders as he sat back in the chair before the floo in Professor Snape's office, putting on a stoic air that was befitting of a Malfoy. "Father. Is everything in order? "

 

"Silly child." Lucius drawled as Draco fought not to wince. "If everything was in order, would I be floo-calling you on a Wednesday morning in the middle of your classes?" He answered himself and continued. "No. Of course not. So perhaps you care to explain to me why I have had to suffer the sound of an incessant little bell that has been chiming every half an hour, for the last four days. A little bell that did not stop ringing until your mother was able to locate the Grandmother Clock passed down to her from her mother."

 

Draco frowned. "Grandmother clock, father? I haven't heard of such a thing."

 

"Oh, yes." Lucius asserted. "A charming little device that makes the most irritating, high pitched little 'ping', the moment a new heir's existence is determined to be definate, and continues to do so until inactivated."

 

In his confusion, Draco was silent.

 

Lucius took the silence as guilt and pressed forward. "What nasty little witch have you impregnated, Draco?"

 

"Impregnanted!?!" Draco nearly leapt from his chair.

 

"That's right, impregnated." Lucius finally snarled. "And just when that infuriating sound stopped, your mother's humming picked up. I have been subjected to lullabyes all morning, which is the length of time it has taken me to compose myself enough to talk to you. Have you no shame, you foolish boy?! No intelligence? THERE ARE CHARMS TO PREVENT PREGNANCY!" The last line was bellowed and Draco winced this time. He watched his mother's torso come into view, and she laid a hand on Lucius arm, then kissed his temple. Her actions seemed to have the desired, calming effect. He cleared his throat, smoothed his hair back, and took a breath. "At least tell me she's a pureblooded witch, and I will almost be able to forgive you for tarnishing the reputation that I have worked more than half my life to build...."

 

"Pureblooded... Witch?" Draco repeated dumbly. His mind raced. "F-father. I haven't...Surely the clock is defective. I swear to you..."

 

"Do not complicate matters by lying, Draco.'' Lucius clenched his teeth. "I suppose I can forgive you, you are a good looking boy, and young witches can be evil temptresses. No doubt the..." he sniffed. "Quality of witch at that damnable school is less than you...than this family line deserves. " He glared askance. "We should have put you in Duramstrang where something like this would not have happened...No matter. What's done is done. Now I bid you, Boy. Tell me the family name so that I can begin smoothing this matter over."

 

Draco's eyes darted back and forth across the ceiling, as though he would find the answer there. For starters, he was very, very certain that he was gay. Secondly, the only person he'd been with, witch or wizard, in the last four months, was Harry bloody Potter, and only because they'd gotten into a row in the prefect's bath, and things had taken a turn for the...interesting. He would never have guessed that Potter was bent, and certainly never that he was the sort to take it...it had been a minor trangression between them, but had certainly not changed the nature of their relationship. He was still a speccy git...

 

"I'm waiting..." Lucius relayed, rather impatiently.

 

Draco's thoughts were scattering like billards after a break. Unless he had done something incredibly out of character while blitzed at Blaise's last party, Draco was certain he could not have impregnated any one.

 

"I-I'm not certain, father." Draco stammered and turned red. He did not want his parent's finding out about his 'condition', as they would put it, in this manner.

 

Finally, the hint of a smile twitched at Lucius lip, though he tried to conceal it. He leaned forward and said lowly, "I am torn between pride and disgust, Draco, that you are such a desireable item, and that you have endeavored to take advantage of the fact."

 

Oh, Salazar! Draco's father thought he was sleeping his way through his Hogwarts classmates. The realization made Draco flush all the more.

 

Lucius waved his hand. "I will find out, mark my words, I will find a way. Nevertheless, the young witch's condition will make itself known shortly anyway, and then we will all be the wiser. In the meantime, do try and sort the matter out on your own...Now, be a good boy for once and fetch Severus on your way back to class..." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand and Draco stood, giving a stiff nod.

"Yes, Father. I'm very sorry, Father. Give my love to Mother..." He tipped his head, then turned, nearly stumbling out the door. His stomach clenched at the thought that he had somehow managed to father a child...the real question was, with whom????


	3. Chapter 3

Severus had a throbbing headache, and no time to swing by his quarters for something to alleviate the pain, if he still wanted make it to class on time. And there was no telling what those imbecile students would do to his potions classroom if he weren't there to observe every simian move they dared to make. A particularly painful throb made itself known at the thought of cleaning up after the morons. Severus had said it before, and he would say it again, but this particular batch of seventh year students was going to kill him.

 

He stalked into the classroom, feeling his robes swirl around what were speculated to be, but were in fact not, spindly legs. His hateful glare did not pass anyone by today, least of all, not Draco. He had just spent the last thirty minutes of his free period listening to Lucius rant and rave about how Draco had managed to impregnate someone, and all but putting Severus in charge of finding out who. It was not coincidence that three days prior, Harry Potter had shown up in the infirmary, a wretching ignoramus, surprised as much as the rest of them about his condition, but very tightlipped for once. And it was no wonder that he did not want to divulge the father of his child...if it were in fact Draco, and Severus suspected it was, simply by the sheer timing of the event if nothing else...there would be little understanding or support from that family.

 

Severus had a longstanding hunch that Draco was interested in members of his own sex. The incidence of such a proclivity was equal within the wizarding community to that which occurred within the Muggle Population, and generally revered with as much animosity, especially in the pureblood society, where blood status was prized, and the removal of any pureblooded member from the breeding populace for any reason was met with venemous distaste. There was a chance, albeit a small one, that Draco's dalliance resulting in offspring was with someone other than one such Harry Potter, but in his heart of hearts, Severus knew it was unlikely. Teenage pregnancy at Hogwarts was a very rare occurance, and for a witch and a wizard to harbor such a condition within days of eachother was a statistical anomaly.

 

Although, if Trelwaney had seen this pairing coming in her crystal ball, he certainly would have offered little more than a snort in her general direction. They duo was an unlikely one at best, and down right disbelievable. Severus had neither the time nor the desire to contemplate how Mr. Potter and his very own godson had come to terms with their mutual animosity long enough to engage in coitus, but, he marvelled, stranger things had happened. Now, however, it was time for class, and he would have to put such disturbing images aside. It was his duty to the school and to himself to remain unflappable, outwardly, and carry on as usual.

 

Severus cleared his throat, and it had the desired effect of silencing the students, so like a troupe of chattering monkeys. "For those of you who have bothered to read ahead- Miss Granger, put your hand down," He sneered, stalking between their desks. "You are already aware that today's lesson is a practical, albeit dangerous one. We will be brewing Dreamless Sleep, which will serve many witches and wizards well, later in adulthood. However, it is a technically difficult potion to brew, and I find it fair to remind all of you that anyone," Severus found his eyes straying momentarily to Harry Potter. "Anyone, who is...of a delicate position, that is to say, fecund..." He was met with blank stares. He tried again. "Prolific..." More of the same ignorance. "For Merlin's sake, you lot. Anyone who is pregnant should not directly handle the potion beyond the point where the Kava leaf is introduced to the Purple Lotus extract." Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Potter gulp. And too, he saw Draco swivel in his seat, eyeing his classmates before catching Severus' eye and giving a slight nod. It was obvious to Severus that Draco thought it was his way of sussing out any likely suspects- Lucius had well-informed him that Draco seemed unaware of who it was that he had impregnated, and no wonder, indeed...

 

He allowed his sweeping gaze to meet with each of the students in turn, reducing his classroom to a group of squirming young witches and wizards before proceding. "Among other complications, mal-brewing of Dreamless Sleep can cause birth defects in pregnant witches," his eyes lfickered to Potter again, he couldn't help it, "Can send the potion-master, and I use the term very loosely in regards to this group, into a sezing fit, and Salazar only knows what might happen if Longbottom got his hands on it..." Under his glare, Longbottom squirmed, and Snape felt almost amused. "That said, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, you lot need to be separated. Weasley, with Miss Granger. If anyone can sort you out, it's her. Longbottom, you share with Parkinson, and Potter...." He narrowed his eyes at the offending student, then glanced askance. As if an afterthought, he added. "You will study with Malfoy. The isntructions are on the board, and you all may begin."

 

Harry's flush as he sweapt up his book and supplies was more than enough to cement what Severus already knew. Draco, however seemed oblivious, and scowled as he made room for the Potter boy at his desk. Draco's knuckles were nearly white as he gripped his wand, and he waved it haphazardly in Harry's direction, growling. "So help me Potter, you so much as lay a finger on my potion, and I'll hex your arse into next week."

 

Severus couldn't help but cuff his godson in the rear of the head as he passed. "Mr. Malfoy," He heard himself drawl. "You will do no such thing. You will act appropriately for your age and circumstance." The exact meaning was lost on Draco who gave him a dirty look, but Potter seemed to get it. "Mr. Potter," Severus addressed him next. "I expect you will comport yourself in a pertienet manner, and I implore you not to rile Mr. Malfoy..."

 

"Yes, Sir." Harry nodded. He reached a hand down to his stomach, an action which went unnoticed to everyone but Severus.

 

Severus made it to the back of the classroom where he bit down, undelicately into his knuckle. He almost felt sorry for Draco, and the wrath he would suffer when Lucius found out. Severus decided he was not going to be the one to tell him. Messengers in lesser circumstances had been killed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, 'Mione, in Hogwarts: A History, does it, uh, say uh, does it say, uh anything about, um, er, Male Pregnancy?" Smooth. Harry thought, cringing internally and trying not to cup his belly, which while not yet distending, was already full of odd tight sensations, little pings of pain, and gurgling sensations. Harry had spent so much time obsessing over what was inside of him that he could no longer tell if those were normal sensations, or new and baby related.

 

Hermione pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Of course it doesn't, Harry. Men can't have babies. Obviously."

 

Harry's face darkened. He wanted to scream at her, That's not true! They DO have babies! Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? If you don't know, nobody does! Instead, he slotted his eyes to Ron. "They do, don't they mate? Some, er, wizards? I mean, it's possible, isn't it? I er, heard a rumor..."

 

Ron scratched his head, making his 'concentration face'. After a minute, he shrugged. Sounds familiar. Maybe. I think Fred and Geroge..."

 

Harry groaned inwardly and stopped listening. Nothing Fred and George said ever had any credibility, especially not to a scholar like Hermione. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to go digging in the library for some information himself. Alone.

 

 

HP~DM~HM~DP~HDMP~HDPM~DP~HM~DM~HP

 

 

Draco was busy working on his essay-sixteen inches detailing the merits of using Grand Pepper Up Potion versus the normal variety, and whether or not either was appropriately used to treat those suffering the effects of pregnancy: if so, was its use restricted to any stage of fetal development, and if not, why. He cast a heavy sigh and wondered if this was a normal part of the cirriculum, or if Severus was using the opportunity to subtly ridicule him.

 

As Severus made his rounds among the students, his robes swirled in Draco's direction, and his footsteps gave a half-pause before him. Serruptitiously, a square of parchment made its way from Severus' palm to the desk in front of Draco, where it smeared a section of not-yet-dried ink. 

 

Draco rolled his glare upward and huffed, but Severus did nothing more than jab a finger at the note and continue on his rounds. Draco flicked his quill in Severus' direction after he'd passed, sending a blot of ink onto the back of his robes. They were black, and the ink did nothing more than settle in and dissapear, but Draco felt a small satisfaction with his actions. Afterward, he turned back to his desk and glanced at the square before placing it in his pocket. It listed three books and their locations in the library, along with a florid scribble, indicating that they were 'education for his situation'. Draco frowned again, and tried to go back to work on his essay, stymied by the process of trying to weed out which one of his classmates he could possibly have impregnanted.

 

 

 

HP~DM~HM~DP~HDMP~HDPM~DP~HM~DM~HP

 

 

Luckily for Harry, there was a small section in the library dedicated to reproductive and fertility magic. One of the books he'd managed to find right off the bat was titled Anecdotes and Anomalies: Childbearing Curiosities. He tucked it under his arm and continued to skim the titled of the books, occasionally pulling one out and flipping through it. He was busy perusing some of the older texts, looking for something similar, when a smovement at the end of the aisle caught his eye. Harry stiffened, then straightened, flushing uncontrollably. Malfoy was at the end of the aisle, head bowed as he read from a crumpled paper in his palm. His lips moved silently as he did so, and then he pursed them, pausing with one finger blocking the light, which created a thin halo of white-blond hairs at the crown of his head. A flutter started in Harry's stomach, and he took an involuntary step backward. This row of shelves ended blindly against the wall and there was no where for him to go. Silently, he prayed that Malfoy would move on to the next row to find what he was looking for.

 

Instead, Malfoy lifted his head, his eyes widening as if surprised to see Harry, then narrowing in disdain. The tip of his nose wrinkled as he gave Harry a general assessment. "Potter," he sneered in his usual fashion.

 

There was something about Malfoy's typical greeting that made Harry's heart sink. Maybe it was because he knew that this was the father of his child: a most unfortunate circumstance indeed. He would do anything in his power to protect his child from that man if he had to. Harry couldn't have aborted the child without it's father's consent...Malfoy didn't have the power to make him get rid of the baby if he didn't want to either...did he? Harry swallowed thickly and made to hurridly brush past Malfoy, who was still taking up much of the aisle.

 

A heavy hand pushed Harry's shoulder, forcing him to step back. "Hey now, Potter. What have you got there?" Malfoy made an attempt to pull the book from Harry's hands, just as Harry clutched it more tightly against him, unsure what he was protecting more: his belly and the child within, or the book that may shed finally some light on his own reproductive curosity. Malfoy craned his head, then narrowed his eyes after hazarding another glance at the paper hidden in the clutch of his fingers. "I need that book, Potter. Er, for my Potions essay."

 

Harry silently shook his head, curling his fingers around the spine. "It's mine, I found it first. You'll just have to wait."

 

"I can't wait, you idiot." Malfoy seethed. "Give it to me, or else."

 

Harry's heart beat wildly in his throat. "You can't possibly need it as much as I do." It came out in a mere whisper.

 

"What the hell could you possibly need it for?" Malfoy hissed. "Knock up your Mudblood did you, and there's something wrong with it? Well, there's a simple solution to that-" Malfoy was cut off as Harry stabbed his wand into the blond's chest.

 

"Maybe you knocked someone up." Harry responded with more vehemence than he meant to. "That's why you need it?"

 

Malfoy guiltily stammered for a moment, then grabbed the tip of Harry's wand, putting enough pressure on it to indicate that he intended to break it. "Get your filthy wand away from me, you stupid half-blood!"

 

Harry yanked his wand away, and as he did so, Draco reached out, slapped the book cradled against his chest away, then accio'd it, sporting a triumphant grin after doing so.

 

Startled, Harry stepped back, then was suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of emotion. He had to blink back a sudden up-welling of tears that he would later blame on 'The damn pregnancy hormones'.

 

"Awww, is ickle Potter going to cry?" Malfoy taunted.

 

Harry could not hide his hurt feelings, and rushed past Draco, who stepped aside to let him pass. He turned at the last minute. "I hope you get your answers, you stupid prat."


	5. Chapter 5

Draco was sitting on his bed with the curtains half drawn. He had three books spread open before him. The first was the book he'd taken from Potter; Anecdotes and Anomalies, Childbearing Curiosities, the second an obscure history book titled Parum Scitur Historia Pythones(roughly translating to "Little Known History of the Wizards"), and the last, a modern witches Romance novel called Zephyr's Secret. The latter-most had a half-naked wizard on the cover, his robes billowing away to reveal a muscled form angled away from the reader, the curve of his buttocks prominent, and his arms curled in front of himself. Draco hadn't been able to bring himself to check that particular book out in good conscience, and had simply placed it in his bag instead, hoping there wasn't some kind of anti-theft charm on it. Luckily for him, there wasn't. He could only imagine the embarassment he'd suffer if caught sneaking that tome. He wondered why the hell Severus had suggested that book in the first place, and checked the note six times, but each time there it was, plain as day. Zephyr's Secret. 

 

From the summary and a cursory flip-through,Draco gathered the novella was about a love triangle between two wizards and a witch, resulting in one of the wizards getting pregnant by the other. When he shared the news with his lover, the father of the child ran away. The witch took pity on the remaining wizard and they raised the child together, under the pretense that it was the witches child all along. Total drivel. Draco packed it back into his bag lest he be caught with it by any of his dorm mates. He'd rather banish the thing altogether to save anyone the pain of reading even a teensy bit of the novella, but there was something inside of him that wouldn't allow him to damage even the most terrible of books.

 

The other two tomes required much more in depth reading and kept him occupied for the next couple of hours. Potter's book, three quarters of the way through, contained a small blurb on something that caught his eye: Wizard Pregnancy. Draco hadn't known such an affliction existed. According to the Curiosities, only twelve examples of such had ever existed, seven of which were documented (the other five were rumored or referenced only briefly in personal accounts), and none in the last hundred years. They were all associated with Gillyweed ingestion and only recent advances in biological study had linked it with amphibious gender ambiguity. Five of the twelve cropped up in a rather short time frame, within a troupe of soldiers that had assembled to fight the Christian opposition during the Crusades (and had been using Gillyweed to make the most of aqueous attacks or hiding in the water as defense tactics). One of the less-well documented cases occured in one of King Arthur's courtiers, and was rumored to be fathered by one of the knights of the round table, though, purportedly, the courtier never did admit which one of them it was.

 

Draco saved the Latin translation for last, though he'd learned to read it as a child and was proficient at skimming the text. He did so until he came across yet another reference to childbearing males. The book indicated that it was an abomination of the flesh, and an abuse of the magic essence retained in Wizard sperm. It again mentioned the group of soldiers in the Crusades, suggesting that they were punished in this manner by the Gods for engaging in same-sex relations and defiling their fellow soldiers, as well as wasting the magical essence in their seed by spilling it into a 'receptacle' not meant for creation of pureblooded witches and wizards...in this sense they had been changed physiologically so that their actions brought forth the desireable outcome of coupling: Pureblooded children. 

 

Draco let the last book close heavily. He couldn't bring himself to read anymore. The last book was obviously dated, and didn't mention the properties of Gillyweed at all. Although it offered what was likely to be the most common reaction to Wizard-pregnancy amongst the pureblood population, who held more reserved and traditional views of most subjects.

 

Now, it was obvious to Draco what the books had in common. He would have to be an ignoramus not to pick up on the pattern of information that Severus had clearly wanted him to find. Some wizards were capable of being impregnated. That was good to know. Important information, because Draco had never gotten close to shagging a witch in his short life. His brain took a short tangent, wondering if he was such a blatant poof that Severus had picked up on it. He wondered if everyone knew. Likely not, though, as he'd only had relations with two, no, three wizards, and they were just as closeted as he was . Severus was astute and clever, and also a talented Legilimens. and it was more likely he had pieced the information together fter careful observtion and inference. Draco was perturbed by the thought that Severus may have passed the word on to his father that it was more likely a wizard that Draco had impregnated, than a witch. But of course, he couldn't have, because such news would not only give incentive to Draco's father to bring down a reign of terror on Draco, the likes of which Hogwarts had never seen, but also kill his mother from shock, in all probability.

 

That line of thinking brought him back around. Wizard, wizard...hmmm, pregnant wizard...the last person he'd had sex with...sweet salazar, no. No! Only the very same wizard who'd been clutching Anecdotes and Anomalies, Childbearing Curiosities like a lifeline. The one who'd wrapped his hands around his gut and ran away after Draco had forcibly taken the book from him. Oh fucking hell, no. Potter. It couldn't be Potter, because they'd only had sex once, for perhaps fifteen minutes, in the prefect's bath. And surely the act of knocking someone up required formalities and rituals, or at least kissing. And a bed, or horizontal positioning. And he'd never consumed Gillyweed. Or was it the other, receiving party that was supposed to have? Better that it was Blaise, at least he was a pureblood. And a slytherin. And his friend. And not a Speccy Gryffindor Half-blood Git. No, because his father hated the scandal surrounding the Zabini family, and didn't care much for Blaise's casual attitude toward pureblooded politics and interests. Better that he had knocked up a witch. Even if it was a muggleborn.

 

Draco felt his insides suddenly twist and his limbs grow heavy. After a minute, he vaulted off the bed, sending the two books flopping heavily to the floor. His shoes screeched on the floorboards as he fought for traction. He flung himself into the common room, past Greg and Vincent to where Pansy was draped over an arm chair, and Blaise lounging over the back of it, the two of them chatting.

 

"Salazar!" Draco hissed, interrupting them both.

 

"Well, well, well, look what the Hippogriff dragged in..." Blaise smirked.

 

"Draco, darling, has Peeves been bothering you again?" Pansy smiled at him with sickly sweetness. "You're a mess!"

 

"Tell me you're up the duff!" Draco blurted, his eyes wide.

 

The common room grew suddenly quiet and Pansy's eyes bulged. "What!?" she picked her feet up from the arm of the chair and let them hit the floor with a smack as she sat up. " I most certainly am not!"

 

"Blaise!?!" Draco's eyes shifted, pleadingly to his good friend.

 

"What, you're asking me?" Blaise scoffed, then laughed. "You alright Draco? Been playing with your potions kit again?" He wagged his finger. "I know, you've been studying so long, you're having hallucinations!"

 

Draco could only shake his head, his stomach clenching again. "Forget it. Forget I said anything!. Oh, bleeding hell!" He scurried to the shared bathrooms with such haste that Pansy and Draco exchanged a concerned look, then joined him. He held up a hand to fend them off while he finished wretching in the most undignified fashion.

 

"Draco, what is going on?" Pansy demanded. "Are you alright? You've been acting strange all week."

 

"Yeah, mate. Strange." Blaise echoed with a frown. "Maybe we should take you to the infirmary." He glanced askance at Pansy and they exchanged conspiratorial looks.

 

"No!" Draco shook his head and made a strangled sound then put his head in his hands. "Severus!" he groaned. "Get Severus!"


	6. Chapter 6

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and for once, Harry was glad to be missing Quidditch Practice. He told everyone he had to take a hiatus because of his recent and on-going sickness, and while his teammates had tried to coerce him into coaching from the sidelines, Harry found he wasn't that interested in Quidditch if he couldn't be in the air with everyone. Ron was obviously overjoyed to have been voted in team captain in Harry's place, and Harry thought it would be good for them anyway. Ron might not be as great a player as everyone else, but he was an excellent strategist, and had warmed Harry's ears with brilliant plays on more than one occasion.

 

Harry cast a look at the gloom outside and as he sighed, his stomach gave a little rumble. He had just eaten two hours ago, but he was beginning to find he was ravenous all the time. And while he was more than happy not to be suffering from strange cravings (an old copy of Witches Weekly reported that Celestina Warback was infamous for her blood sausages-and-marmalade- tarts during pregnancy), he did find himself turning his nose up at a number of dishes, mostly those containing potatoes, and chicken, of all things. He decided to wander down to the kitchens and see if Dobby could make him a fried-egg sandwich and a milk shake.

 

 

 

 

 

Draco was just emerging from his recently onset state of shock brought on by the realization that not only were some Wizards capable of getting pregnant, but that the one and only, Harry Sodding Potter was likely to be the father-er-mother? Whatever...bearer of his offspring. The Gods must hate him. His grandfather was probably rolling over in his grave. His father was going to kill him.

 

He decided to take a break from the side-show comedy of Blaise and Pansy pretending to fawn over him, in between sets of fawning over eachother. Disgusting. He was slinking through the Hallways, glaring at anyone who passed, when, several feet ahead of him, he noticed Potter. He had a dreamy expression on his face, and one hand on his flat stomach, the other toting a handkercheif knotted at the corners and bulging with food stuffs.

 

Draco scowled and ducked into an alcove located rather conveniently to his left. He was planning on hiding until Potter had passed, then resuming his miserable constitution around the hospital. As Potter passed, however, Draco had a last-minute change of mind. His hand shot out, twisted in a handful of fabric from Potter's shirt, and yanked. 

 

Potter stumbled, dropping the satchel as he clutched at Draco for balance. "Jeeezuh- You!" He hiccuped, then burped, and belatedly flung the back of his hand over his mouth even as he tried to step away. 

 

Draco clutched Potter's arm more tightly and with a cursory flick of his wand and the incantation for Notice-Me-Not followed by a mumbled Muffliato, they were doubly ensconced in privacy. Draco caught a whiff of Potter's sulfurous breath and blocked his nostrils from the offensive odor with the tip of his first finger. "Merlin, Potter." Draco hissed. 

 

Pottter hiccupped again, then frowned. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

 

Draco jutted his chin toward Potter. He thought it should be obvious, but the idiot only stared at hime with a blank expression. Draco scowled again then gestured vaguely toward Potter's person. "How many people have you told?"

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Don't be stupid. I know what you're hiding. When were you planning on telling me? Were you ever going to?" Draco's questions came out in a rush, and Potter only paled and gaped in return. Draco turned Potter against the wall of the alcove, with more force than he meant to and Potter made a small noise in the back of his throat. Then, contrarilly, Draco's palm met the flesh of Potter's lower belly with surprising gentleness. He cupped the area, which he now realized was not flat, but had the faintest swell. The swell was firm under his fingers, covered though by flesh, soft and warm. For a moment, he forgot Potter was attached to it, and his fingers stroked the belly through the cotton tee briefly. The flesh jerked toward him as Potter hiccupped again, then Draco remembered and jerked his hand back, feeling a rush of heat to his own cheeks. "It's mine too, you know." he snapped. "I deserve to know."

 

Potter seemed to shake his stunned expression off and finally shoved Draco away from him. "Seems like you already found out." His face wrinkled in a sneer. "Did Snape tell you?" He hiccupped once more, then contorted his face as he alternately held his breath and took rapid breaths.

 

"So Severus did know." Draco confirmed. His wand instinctively went to Harry's throat. "Which brings me back to my original question. Who else knows? How many of your stupid friends have you told?"

 

Potter's hand came up, wrapping around the tip of Draco's wand. "Maybe no one ever told you, but it's a bad idea to point your wand at...at pregnant people. Especially when that pregnant...person is carrying your child. Or is that sort of thing common in the Pureblood Circle?"

 

Draco felt a stab of guilt hit him in the gut. Of course he couldn't go threatening the...carrier of his child at wand point. He was putting his own child at risk. He was going to have to reconcile his feelings toward Potter in a way that didn't involve violence. It was going to be difficult. The mere mention of Potter sparked soemthing inside of him that made the blood course through his veins hotly. He blinked and slowly lowered his wand, tucking it into the back of his belt when Potter released his grip on it. "Who else knows?" He asked again, voice low as he leaned closer, bracketing Potter in place with his outstretched arms.

 

"Madame Pomfrey." Potter replied after glaring at Draco for another minute. "Dumbledore. And now, you."

 

"And Weasel. And Granger." Draco added.

 

Potter slowly shook his head. "No. I...I tried to tell them, but I couldn't."

 

Draco slowly canted his head as if the idea was taking him some effort to register.

 

"Who did you tell?"

 

Draco shook his head in response. His mouth was suddenly dry. "No one." He looked into the distance down the corridor past Potter, and swallowed thickly. Fa-" he pursed his lips and shook his head. "My...my parents know that I've gotten someone up the duff. They've got a grandmother clock..." he said, his eyes flickering to Potter's face. "They know I've fucked up. They just don't know its with you."

 

Potter's face began to color with anger. He knocked Draco's arms away and broke into the hallway, the privacy charms failing as he breeched their barriers. "I knew you'd think it was a mistake! Well, you can't make me get rid of it. It's mine!" He crossed his arms over his stomach and took two halting steps away. "Sod off, Malfoy! This is one thing you're not going to take away from me, no matter how hard you try! You just forget this ever happened, and I'll take care of everything by myself. I don't need you!" at that, he turned and fled.

 

"Potter, wait!" Draco called after him. But it was no use. He was already turning the corner up ahead. And then, he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry had been carefully avoiding Malfoy since that dismal encounter in the hallway, that dreary saturday afternoon. He'd even gotten out of sharing potions lab with Malfoy by faking a sudden onset illness. Snape had given him a deep frown, but hidden in there, Harry was sure he thought he'd seen a twinge of concern. Maybe. What the git was trying to achieve by pairing him repeatedly with the Slytherin Prat was beyond him anyway.  
Harry's studies had actually improved since his news, and he was sure it was because he was spending his spare time in the library rather than on the quidditch pitch. It helped that Hermione was usually right there next to him to encourage him, but today, she was strangely absent. Nevertheless, he occupied their usual table in the far corner near the stacks, where it was quieter and there were less distractions from other students and passersby.  
He looked up when a shadow hovered over him for longer than usual, then scowled when he saw it was Malfoy. He turned his attention back to his books without giving him the courtesy of a greeting.  
"Potter," Malfoy said lowly. "We need to talk."   
"Sod off." Harry hissed, keeping his eyes on his book work.   
"It's mine, too, you know. I should have some say."   
Harry turned the page irritably. He thought perhaps if he ignored Malfoy long enough, he might go away.  
After a minute, Malfoy sighed loudly, then placed a stack of books in front of Harry, in between his arms.  
Harry glanced upward then, only to see Malfoy's robes billowing as he made a hasty retreat. Good riddance, he thought before turning his attention back to the books. It only took him a moment to realize that the one on top was the tom Malfoy had stolen from him in the stacks nearly a week ago.  
The next one down appeared to be in Latin. As he bent the binding to quickly leaf through, the book fell open to a spot held with a flat book mark. The material almost felt like leather, but was silver in color and decorated with elaborate swirls of silver that caught the light when he turned it back and forth. It figured that poncy git couldn't even use a ribbon or a bit of paper like anyone else. He left the page marked, and as he shut the book, and it clapped louder than he'd meant to. He glanced over his shoulder sheepishly, but no one seemed to notice. He vowed to have Hermione help him with the translation. Maybe there was something related to wizard pregnancy, and she could read it for herself, and then maybe she'd believe him. But then, he'd still have to confess why he was reading the material in the first place. And then maybe they'd want to know who the father of his baby was. And he wasn't sure he was ready to make that sort of confession now, if ever. He piled the first two books atop one another and pushed them aside.   
The book at the bottom of the pile had a animated cover with the backside of a wizard that made him blush. There was something about it that reminded him of the dime-store novels that Aunt Petunia hid underneath the couch cushions and thought no one knew about. Well, if Malfoy was into reading cheap romance novels, he certainly didn't want to know about it. But maybe he could find a way to humiliate him upon returning it. Serve the bastard right. Harry had spent last Saturday night in tears because of that arsehole. He was chalking that up to hormones too. It had to be. They'd been through far worse together, and Malfoy's attitude had only made him angry. There was no reason he should have been so sad. So, yeah. Hormones.  
It wasn't ten minutes later than Hermione dropped into the chair across from him, shoving her bag next to her. "Sorry I'm late," She hissed in the barest whisper. Her hair was mussed more than usual, and she was smoothing wrinkles out of her shirt. From the way she was out of breath, he'd guess she was intercepted in the common room by Ron on his way off to practice. But Harry didn't want to think of that. He grunted non-comittally as she scraped her chair into place and began to unpack her bag. "What've you got there?" she whispered, gesturing with her quill to the book Harry seemed to be reading intently.  
He flicked his eyes up at her, and tried not to flush, but it was too late. He swallowed, thought a few seconds before responding with the words that he never thought he'd be able to say to her in his life. "You were wrong."

 

 

By the time Hermione had finished re-reading the passage, Harry's stomach was in knots. Worse than it had been for the last several weeks. The fingernails on his right hand were chewed down to the quick.

Hermione carefully set the book aside and arched an eyebrow at him. The tops of her ears were burning red, but she otherwise looked unaffected. "Okay. So, I was wrong. In the last five hundred years, twelve wizards have been reported to be pregnant." She shrugged and didn't seem to hear Harry's mumbled response of 'Thirteen'. "I mean, who knows if those were even legitimate pregnancies? Documents can be faked you know."

"They weren't." Harry said, spitting a chewed off nail onto the floor. 

Hermione frowned. "How do you know? What does it matter?" 

"Gillyweed, Hermione." Harry pressed. 

"So?" 

"I used Gillweed during the tournament." 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry. Are you worried about getting pregnant?" She laughed. "Do you know what the chances are? And anyway, you'd have to...be...you know." When he continued to stare at her she blinked. "You know."

"A pouf?" Harry deadpanned. 

"Well, yeah." She reached over and patted his hand. "Anyway, that was ages ago. Nothing to get worked up over." She closed the book then reached into her bag, pulling out her favorite quill.

"'Mione," He said, looked at the far wall. 

"Shh," She said, unrolling her parchment. "I've got to get working on this essay for charms, and I'm already behind."

"Bugger." Harry scowled and stood, stuffing the books Malfoy gave him into his own bag. He slung it over his shoulder and half-turned. "Forget it," he said under his breath. "See you later," He huffed as he marched off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second task of the tournament requiring the use of Gillyweed is recorded as happening in February, 1995. Harry's dalliance, as it were, happened just before Summer Break started, sometime around July. He went to Madam Pomfry shortly after starting school, when he was approximately 2.5 months pregnant, and had been suffering from morning sickness off and on throughout the summer at the Durseley's, but had attributed it to stress. He is now roughly 4.5 months pregnant.

Draco tried to pretend that he was surprised by his father's visit as he was escorted out of his study hall and into Severus' office. "F-father," the stammer in his voice gave him away.

 

Lucius, whose back had been turned as he perused the collection of textbooks lining the potion mastrer's shelves, sent his robes spirling as he faced his son. "Draco." His mouth formed a thin line of displeasure. "It is unlike you to go so long without corresponding to your mother and I. We were worried, son." The flat tone of his voice did not hint at his concern. 

 

Draco gave a short nod of acknowledgement, and then his eyes began to wander, up over the ceiling, down the stone wall, and across the floor boards. He was waiting, waiting for the ineveitable conversation to come. He did not have to wait much longer.

 

"Your mother thought that perhaps it was because you were afriad to disappoint us with news that you have yet to identify the party of your dalliance. Is that it, Draco?"

 

Draco immediately began nodding in agreement, unable to meet his father's eyes with his own.

 

"Or," Lucius proposed. "Perhaps, you are quite aware of whom you have bequeathed your heir, and have decided, for some reason, not to divulge their identity?"

 

Draco's mouth went suddenly dry, but he dug deep and pulled himself up straighter, slanting his gaze upward. He blinked and hoped that his practised look of affront would fool his father. He forced himself to snort. "Surely, Father, you don't truly believe that I am capable of such malintent, where family is concerned?"

 

Lucius coolly studied him, working his gloved thumb over the point of his chin. "Indeed." He did not look bemused. "Perhaps it is time for a visit to the headmaster. Of course, the old fool will claim he either knows nothing about the situation or is not at liberty to say who...but perchance he should let it slip with enough pressure..." Lucius placed his palms flat on Serverus' desk and leaned over, placing his face dangerously close to Draco's. "Or you will..." 

 

 

 

Harry's belly was taut, and now made a rounded shape that protruded past his belt. His robes hid it well, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to keep from caressing the bump in public. In the Gryffindor common room, he was absently doing just that when Ron and the others trudged in from practice, ruddy-faced and muddy. 

 

Ron flashed Harry a grin and swung his arm out, catching Harry's belly with the back of his hand. "Really packing it on now that you're not flying anymore, eh? With the amount of time you spend sicking-up, you ought to be losing weight."

 

Harry bent forward, cradling his stomach protectively. "Ron!" He said, alarmed. "Don't do that."

 

"Sorry, Mate." He looked suddenly concerned. "You're not going to be sick again, are you?" He took a step backward and glanced at his shoes, before arching his eyebrows at Harry.

 

Harry's face flamed and he stuttered a moment. "N-no. I'm alright. I haven't been sick...like that... for awhile now anyway, you know. Just, feeling a bit...off, still. You know.

 

"Right." Ron frowned. "You know, you've been spending an awful lot of time holed up in here, mate. What you need is a break....Hogsmeade trip this weekend, good for you to get some fresh air, and all that rot." he waved his hand vaguely.

 

"I don't know," Harry disagreed immediately, hazarding a glance toward the window. "I don't want to be too far from the castle in case...something, er, goes wrong." He patted his stomach for emphasis.

 

"But you just said you weren't feeling sick anymore."

 

"I know." Harry said. "I just...it's only that...I'mtryingtoavoidMalfoy."

 

Ron blinked. "Say again?"

 

Harry sighed and enunciated properly. "I'm trying to avoid Malfoy."

 

"We're always trying to avoid Malfoy," Ron rolled his eyes. then he glanced back at Harry with a frown. "Why? Has that ferret been harassing you? What's his problem now? You want me to knock him off his broom during the next match?" He started to puff up. "I'll do it you know. Shove his turned-up, smarmy little nose right into the snow, I will..." 

 

Harry clapped Ron on the back while shaking hsi head. "No, no. I know you would. Thanks Ron, really. Just, no. I'm just...sick of him. Sick of everything." He toed the floor.

 

"Getting homesick?" Ron asked. "Well, not for your home, I mean. With those stupid Dursely's. What you need is a visit home with me. Mum said you were welcome anytime. I'll owl her and tell her to make her treacle tart, and that lamb pie you were so fond of, when we go home for the hols. She'll be so happy to see you, and Dad'll talk your ear off for hours! It'll be great!"

 

Harry tried not to make a face. By the time Christmas break came around, he'd be close to six months pregnant. He'd have to tell someone by then, wouldn't he? He'd be getting far too large to pass it off as winter weight. The idea of cluing Arthur and Molly into his troubles didn't seem worth the while. It was beginning to seem like telling anyone was a bad idea. "I dunno, Ron. We'll see."

 

"You really are spending too much time alone." Ron wondered aloud, and slung his arm over Harry's shoulders. That's it. You're coming to Hosgmeade this weekend, and I'm not taking no for an answer!"


	9. Chapter 9

"Potter!" The bellow echoed from the entryway behind the fat lady into the main portion of the common room.

 

It was closely followed by Neville's cry of, "God damn it, Malfoy! Gerroff! Get out! Let go of me!" 

 

Both of them stumbled into the main room, a flurry of tangled limbs as they tussled. The two young men fell, panting onto the floor, and Malfoy stilled when he realized there were half a dozen Gryffindor wands pointed at him.

 

"I'm not looking for trouble," He sneered. "I only want to talk. To Potter. Alone."

 

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "Get out, Malfoy. If I wanted to talk to you, I would have done so, long ago. Just accept things for what they are, and leave me alone."

 

"Yeah." Ron cheered in support of Harry, though a confused look crept over his face. "Get out of here before we hex your arse into next week!"

 

"That's mature, Weasel." Malfoy scowled as he pushed himself to his feet and began dusting off his robes.

 

"I'm not the one resorting to name calling!" Ron puffed his chest out.

 

Malfoy ignored him in favor of addressing Harry again. "Potter. Damn it. It's important. And I'm going to talk about it, whether you accommodate my request or not. And that means everyone in this room will know, in addition to my father, who at this very moment, is besetting Severus' office; he has resolved to return home with answers regarding--"

 

Harry growled and leapt at Malfoy with such ferocity that his dormmates jumped. His momentum carried them both crashing into a nearby wall, smashing aside a pair of arm chairs in the process. "You shut your filthy gob!" You don't...don't have the right to talk about that! Just shut up!"

 

Malfoy craned his chin up, croaking past Harry's forearm at his throat: "Alone, then, Potter." His eyes flashed darkly. "You fight dirty when a person can't retaliate..."

 

"Enough!" Harry snapped, dropping his arm and turning his back on Malfoy. His feet stomped across the floor as he made his way toward the portrait of the fat lady.

 

Malfoy followed slowly after him, levelling the Gryffindors he past with a smug and superior smile.

 

Ron was just about to helf his leg over the edge after them when Harry spotted him and shook his head. "Stay here, Ron. This is between me and Malfoy."

 

"Harry?" Ron questioned, still clutching his wand in the same hand that was braced on the hinged edge of the portrait.

 

Harry slanted his eyes toward Malfoy, who had already tucked his own wand inside his shirt sleeve, and lifted his open hands in mock surrender. "He won't do anything. "Just leave it."

 

Ron made a face but lowered his knee, which had long been hovering, like a pup on his first outing after a long night's sleep. He gave a slow nod of acknowledgement, though his face was creased with a worried frown. "Not like you to keep secrets, mate..."

 

"Don't worry, Weasel." Malfoy sneered. "I have a feeling you'll find out sooner than later anyway."

 

Malfoy kept his mouth shut as he dutifully followed Harry toward the Astronomy tower. There, he whipped out his wand and grimaced at a trio of first-year ravenclaw students who were prematurely setting up their telescopes, and they quickly fled.

 

"Real nice," Harry scowled as he waved his wand, casting the necessary privacy spells. "You're so good with children, I can tell." He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, using it for support as he slowly lowered himself to the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest. "You said your father was going to talk to Snape. What makes you so sure Snape will tell him what he knows?"

 

Malfoy sighed and stuffed his hand through his hair, ruffling his usually perfect coif. "He was...pressuring me for answers. He said 'this has gone on for far too long'. He and Mother will need to make arrangements. Deal with the press..."His voice lowered and he seemed to choke over his next words. "Prepare a suite in the Manor." He cleared his throat and looked at the wall. "Plan a wedding."

 

"What?!" Harry's voice shot out. "I am not marrying you. Hell! I'm not moving in with you! I don't even want to look at you, let alone live with you!"

 

"Do you think I want to marry you either, you great oaf? I'm not exactly over the moon about this either, you know! What'd you have to go and get yourself up the duff for?"

 

"Me?!" Harry lumbered to his feet. "You did this to me!"

 

"Oh, sure, I had my part." Malfoy conceeded. "But you're the one with the Gillyweed. This is your fault!"

 

They bickered on in this fashion for a few minutes longer before Harry, who was stalking away from Malfoy in exasperation turned quickly on his heel. "You still didn't tell me exactly why your father thinks Snape will have anything to say in the first place. He may be a greasy...Slytherin Git, but he knows when to keep his mouth shut, doesn't he?"

 

Mafloy's mouth opened, then closed, and he turned away again, refusing to meet Harry's intense gaze. "Yeah, well. Maybe I told him that Severus knew."

 

"You did what!?"

 

"You have no idea how intimidating father can be. Besides, he was going to find out eventually. You can't hide forever you know. You're already getting fat. How much longer before someone notices? Were you really going to go the full nine months, and then what? Just drop out of school and never come back? Isn't that a little suspicious? Who do you think is going to take care of that baby anyway? You?"

 

"Well it isn't going to be you!" Harry snapped. "Or anyone in your family. I'm not letting anyone take this baby away from me! I grew up without parents, and I'm not putting my child through that! I'm going to be there, and I don't care if I have to drop out!"

 

"Right." Malfoy drawled. "Because you're Harry Potter, and you'll be a single wizard who birthed his own baby, and on the cover of countless publications. You'll just revel in the attention and adoration of your fans who will throw themselves at your feet in a a swarm, eager to be of service...because historically, Wizards who gave birth were never ostracized by society, or considered unlucky, or cursed. But you know. You probably haven't even gotten around to translating that bit of information yet, you're so busy waddling down to the kitchen and stuffing your gob with absolute rubbish--" And here was where Malfoy's tirade took a tangent. "That's my baby in there too, and you ought to have a little consideration for it's health, if you're going to disregard your own...all those cakes and biscuts, honestly!" His last jab must have been in reference to the satchel of food Harry had been carrying back from the kitchens the day of their last encounter.

 

"So I've got a bit of a sweet tooth! I'm pregnant, I get cravings!" Harry shouted. "And I've seen the sweets you stuff yourself with, so you can't even--"

 

"I'm not pregnant!" Malfoy parried.

 

Harry countered, "And I don't waddle!" 

 

"Oh, you will." Malfoy huffed. "Or aren't you familiar with normal pregnancies, either? Perhaps you ought to read up, now that you're off the pitch."

 

Harry glowered. "What the fuck do you think I've been doing with my time? I'd bet I know more about it than you do."

 

Malfoy shrugged and fell quiet for a minute, casting a tempus, and sighing heavily. Even his shoulders slumped. "Well, he's sure to know by know. Probably looking for me to kill me, and then you won't have to worry about getting married anyway...." He put his face in his hands and his shoulders shook for the briefest moment before he regained his composure. He lifted his head, and his eyes were watery, but cheeks dry. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

 

"We?" Harry paled as reality finally struck him, despite the weeks he'd spent obsessing over the facts. The room swum in his vision and began to slant dangerously sideways; but suddenly Malfoy was there, gripping his arm, just a bit too tightly before jerking him up and slipping an arm around his shoulder, holding him up.

 

"Shit, Potter. Don't faint on me, for Salazar's sake. The last thing I need is for you to take a header off the tower, and have everyone accusing me of murdering 'The Idiot Who Lived' and his miracle spawn."

 

Harry tucked himself into Malfoy's waist in return and sucked in a deep breath as he waited to regain himself. "Just don't let go."


	10. Chapter 10

Severus had retired to his rooms, allowing Lucius and Draco the use of his office. He was not looking forward to dealing with Lucius after he intimidated Draco into finally confessing. He kept one ear turned to the floo as he went about his busines, simply waiting for the inevitable.

 

"Severus!" Lucius' voice was a barely contained roar. "I'm coming through!" He announced, and the floo flared green then gave a grating hiss before spitting Lucius out. He dug is cane into the floor and pressed himself to his full height as his robes settled down behind him. 

 

Severus acknowledged him with a brief nod and continued to his liquor cabinet, pouring a generous amount of Ogden's Best into a tumbler. He extended his arm the full length and offered it to Lucius, who was glaring at him. "I assume The Brat has confessed." he drawled, and gave the glass a little shake when his friend failed to accept it.

 

"Yes," Lucius snapped and snatched the drink away. He set it untouched on a nearby shelf. "Confessed that he will not tell me who it is, and then told me in no uncertain terms that if I wanted to know who was carrying my grandchild, I should ask you."

 

Severus' mouth went dry. That cowardly little snake... His hand gave a faint tremble, but he masked it by reaching for a tumbler of his own. "He said what, praytell?" and quirked a brow.

 

Lucius crossed the space between them quickly, twisted his fist in a loose fold of Severus' robe and yanked the taller man down to eye level, snarling, "I have had enough of these games. You will tell me, old friend, and you will tell me now, or you'll find yourself rapidly exsanguinating on the cold stone floor of this stinking place you call home!" 

 

Severus did not so much as flinch when as he straightened, tugging his clothing out of Lucius' angry grasp as he went. "I will do no such thing." Severus replied calmly. "You know I cannot-"He gave his impatient guest a withering glance that effectively silenced his rising protest before continuing. "I cannot. I am bound by the word I gave when working alongside Poppy as a magical caregiver to maintain patient confidentiality..."

 

With a cry of rage, Lucius turned, sweeping his arm along the length of the book shelf nearest him, knocing it's contents to the floor. the tumbler and it's contents went flying, and the glass shattered on impact with the floor.

 

With a frown, Severus turned his wand on the mess, methodically cleaning and replacing the items to their proper homes. "Calm yourself, my friend," he murmured. "We will find a way." He took a sip of his drink and strodepast Lucius who was twisting his cane between his palms and taking deep, purposeful breaths. Severus frowned as he thought, feeling the lines in his forehead crease. Damn Potter. Damn him for always being at the root of Severus' problems. He took another short swallow of Ogden's, then set the tumbler down with a loud clink. "What is the worst you can imagine?" The question he posed made Lucius groan and drop his face into his hands momentarily.

 

Lucius raised his head after a moment, and his eyes flickered around the room before settling back on Severus. "A first year student. Oh, Salazar!" He exclaimed. "He hasn't raped anyone?"

 

Severus gave a start. That possibility hadn't even crossed his mind. "No." his voice cracked as he shook his head. He cleared his throat and repeated, "No. They are roughly the same age." He waved his hand again. "Go on."

 

"Does this expercise have a point?" Lucius glowered, and when Severus merely returned his gaze, huffed and went on. "The Mudblood." He sniffed. "What is her name? Grandier...Gangly...Ah...yes. Granger." He sneered the name.

 

The potionsmaster blinked. "Close."

 

"Fuck." Lucius rubbed his hands over his face. "No! Not the Weasley girl?"

 

"You'd be closer still, had you guessed the weasley boy," Severus mumbled.

 

"What's that?" Lucius' brow knotted. "I am afraid I've misheard. Did you say the Weasley boy?"

 

"Indeed." Severus polished off the rest of his drink and poured himself another-school night be damned-and made his way to his arm chair where a well thumbed volume had taken up residence these past few months. He traced the ribbon sewn into the binding that served as his marker and cracked the spine open to the appropriate page. He passed the book over then sat down in his chair, crossing one ankle over the opposing knee. Severus propped his chin into his palm and watched as shock claimed the Malfoy patriarch.

 

Lucius' eyebrows quirked up first, then raised higher, and higher still, until they, quite comically formed twin arches on his pale forehead. Suddenly they came crashing down and knotted deeply. "A-are you trying to tell me..." his words faltered and he looked to Severus to complete the sentence that he had absolutely no desire to hear. 

 

"That your son harbors a concupiscence for carnal pleasures with members of his own sex?"

 

Lucius' shoulders slumped uncharacteristically, and he all but fell into the disused arm chair alongside the one Severus occupied. He was silent a long while, staring off into the distance. Finally, he shook himself out of his reverie. "But...but how?"

 

Severus assumed that Lucius was not looking for an explanation of the mechanics of homoerotic courting rituals, but rather those related to male pregnancy. He cocked his head at the book, still open in Lucius' white-knuckled grip, and when Lucius offered it up shakily, the thumbed two pages ahead, and pointed to appropriate passage, complete with his own penciled notes in the margin.

 

The blond head bent over the book again, and it seemed he reread the passage over and over, for the time it took him to look up again. "I'm afraid I don't understand..." The rage had left him and was replaced by a meek sadness. "Gillyweed?"

 

Severus tucked a limp strand of hair behind his ear and nodded. "Causes a biological shift in reproduction systems to balance with the intention of balancing the ratio, more in favor of one that would maintain species continuity."

 

Lucius flung the book away from him as though it were infectious. "I don't care about the fucking...." herolled his eyes and ground his teeth. "Severus, for fuck's sake! Who? WHO?"

 

Severus shook his head. "Think, man, think!"

 

"Having a bit of trouble, getting past the image of my son..." his mouth tried to form a myriad of words, but he could not enunciate any of them. He waved his hand vaguely and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Cissa is going to be devastated, ruined...sweet Circe..."

 

"February." Severus barked.

 

Lucius jerked and looked questioningly askance.

 

"It's all I can give you. In February, You must recall, my ranting and raving about that..." His hands clenched into fists. "Little bastard, raiding my personal stores...stealing my gillyweed. Using it for his own personal gain..."

 

Lucius blinked. Then blinked again. His mouth fell open. "Surely not..."

 

Severus ducked his head in confirmation.

 

"No. No!" Lucius leapt from his perch to swing his arms and rave again. One sweep of his hands ruined his slicked back 'do and dragged ends from his pony tail. "The Potter boy? Not Harry bloody Potter! You're certain?"

 

Severus glanced at him, and then away. 

 

"My Draco? With Potter? Oh, fucking Salazar Slytherin!" He collapsed back in the chair and feathered his hand over his face, falling quiet again. "Of all the...After all I've tried to...my sodding family...fucking press...Merlin-damned media frenzy..." He grumbled to himself. Severus wordlessly stood, and refilled his glass, placing it directly into Lucius hand. This time he drained it before standing, wild-eyed. "He's a deadman."

 

Severus blinked. "Who?"

 

"That ungrateful, snivelling, cowardly little-" He cut his tirade short to shake Severus' hand off his shoulder as he made his way to the floo.

 

"I think it's best you returned home and let everything sink in before you do anything rash. You know I can't have you here, threatening students-"

 

Lucius brushed Severus away again with a glare. But when he threw the powder in the hearth, the location he called was his own Malfoy Manor. Only when he disappeared in a rush of green flames did Severus allow himself a moment to relax again. His fingers itched to curl around the neck of one of the bottles in his liquor cabinet, but he didn't dare. Not if he was going to confront his godson in regards to what he'd just endured for his benefit. Conniving little...His hand snapped back to his side and he crossed back to the hearth, flooing straight into his office where he expected to find Draco waiting, on pins and needles. But the door was ajar and the room was empty. The coward.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry hoisted his leg over the portrait wall with a huff, thinking to himself that there was no way he was going to be able to do this several times a day, two or three months from now. Hell, maybe two or three weeks from now, with his luck. He rounded the corner, intending to quietly sneak into his room, when he came face to face with Ron and Hermione, waiting up for him, snuggling together under a blanket on one of the couches in the common room.

 

"Oy, Mate!" Ron exclaimed, bolting upright. "Did you have it out with The Ferret? If you were going to fight him, I could have come to watch your back."

 

"Ronald!" Hermione protested.

 

Harry steeled himself and took a deep breath. He and Malfoy had discussed this, and there was no sense in backing out now. He shook his head minutely, then ruffled the back of his hair, sheepishly before trying to flatten it down. "Not fighting, no." He admitted. He bit his lower lip, which still felt swollen, and still tasted of Malfoy's mouth. He couldn't help himself-laying in the circlet of Malfoy's arms, inhaling the crisp, spicy smell of his cologne, feeling the muscles of his arms bunch around him, the tickle of that fine blond hair on his cheek...before the room had even stopped spinning, he'd clutched Malfoy by the jumper and pulled him closer, and pressed their mouths together. And it had been just as brilliant as the first time, that spark travelling straight from his mouth and throughout his body, poolng in his groin. Draco's lips were slick and soft, and his tongue like velvet-

 

"Harry?" Ron's confusion broke him out of his reverie.

 

"You're both going to sit down, and shut it, and listen to what I have to say," Harry informed them both. "Because I've only been trying to tell you both for months....and you're going to believe me, because I'm bloody serious. And neither of you are going to say a word about it, because I honestly don't know what I'm going to do about it, and I need your support. Yeah?"

 

The two of them were leaning forward on their elbows now, mouths slightly agape. They blinked and then were answering in synch-

"Yeah, sure, Harry, 'Course, Mate!" and "What is it, Harry? You have to tell us!"

 

Harry glanced over his shoulder, then waved his wand, casting a privacy bubble around them. He took a deep breath, letting his shoulders sag as he exhaled. "I'm bloody well pregnant. Going on five months now."

 

Ron barked out a laugh and slapped his knee. "Oy! Good one! Fred n' George-"

 

Harry glared. "I said I was bloody serious. I'm fucking up the duff, alright?" Ron could only giggle and shake his head. Harry scowled and rolled his eyes. "Some friend you are," His eyes flickered to Hermione who was stammering wordlessly.

 

"Oh, Harry!" She finally managed, looking contrite and embarassed. "That day in the library..?" He confirmed her suspicions with a nod and her shoulders fell. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize....Oh..."

 

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter. I should have tried harder to tell you. Its only that its..." he ruffled the hair at the back of his head. "Really, really embarassing."

 

"Oy!" Ron jumped up belatedly. "You're seriously serious?"

 

"Yeah," Harry nodded and turned in profile, smoothing his shirt over his belly and letting his posture sag to allow his belly to protrude naturally. "Can't you tell?"

 

"Oh. My. God!" Ron exclaimed. "I...you...." he gestured, then grimmaced. "I mean, how...what? When? And....who? But mostly, HOW????"

 

Harry slumped into a nearby chair. "You forgot Where and Why."

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

"Severus was here looking for you," Blaise drawled as Draco entered the common room.

 

"I figured as much" Draco replied, falling onto the couch.

 

"He looked as angry as a doxy-nest. What'd you go and do now?"

 

Draco snorted and propped his feet up on the coffee table, then began examining his fingernails.

 

"I mean it," Blaise said, leaning closer to Draco. "You must have royally fucked up this time and oh my gods-You have Shag-Hair!"

 

Draco's hand automatically lifted and began to smooth his locks down. "I do not."

 

"Yes, you do! You have Shag-Hair! Pans!" he bellowed, craning his head toward the girl's dorms. "Pansy!"

 

"Oh, for Salazar's sake," She grumbled as she appeared. "What is it n-oh, hullo, Draco." She smirked at Blaise. "Did you tell him?" then flounced toward Draco, announcing in a sing-song voice,"You're in trouble!"

 

"Sweet fucking Merlin, does the whole house know?" Draco scowled.

 

"Practically," She perched on the arm of the couch, then wrinkled her nose. "Pew! You reek of sex."

 

"And he has Shag-Hair." Blaise pointed out helpfully.

 

"Don't!" Draco argued, feeling his cheeks flush.

 

"Do." Pansy confirmed with a grin. "Is that why Sev was looking for you?"

 

Draco sank into the couch cushions with a scowl. "Not exactly." He glared back at two sets of prying eyes. "In a round about way, maybe." He crossed his arms and glared harder, but when his two friends merely quirked their brows, he threw his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright. I'll tell you. But you have to swear on your magic, you won't say a word, either of you." Draco yanked a throw pillow into his lap and viciously twisted one corner, waiting for satisfactory affirmations. Finally, he admitted to the pillow, "I'm going to be a father."

 

"What?!" squawked Pansy, and Blaise fell on to the floor guffawing.

 

"You???" Blaise questioned, picking himself up. "You're queer as a clockwork orange!"

 

"Yeah, me."

 

"Blaise is right," Pansy said, crossing to him and settling herself into his arms. "You're taking the piss."

 

"Wish I were," Draco grumbled, leaning back and pulling the pillow over his face. "He's due round the end of April."

 

"You're serious?" Blaise asked, while Pansy was busy squealing, "It's a boy?" She jumped up and ran to hug Draco, who grunted into his pillow at the unexpected assault. 

 

"What?" Draco said, reappearing and trying to shove Pansy off. "I don't know what the sex is...I mean, he hasn't said yet...I mean....Oh, bugger."


	12. Chapter 12

Draco could feel Serverus' stare burn in to him during breakfast. He could not make himself meet his Godfather's gaze, and opted to miserably shovel oatmeal into his mouth instead. Pansy looked like she was bursting at the seams to speak of his news to someone, anyone, but she had vowed on her magic to keep it to herself, and it appeared that the loss was not one she was willing to risk. She had bothered him until the wee hours of the morning the night before, trying to get him to ascertain which wizard he'd impregnanted, interspersing random guesses with obnoxious pleas for information. Finally, Blaise threatened to turn her into a barn owl if he had to listen to one more "who" from her, and she'd retired for the night.

 

When Draco could stand the pressure no longer from his house mates and leader alike, he rose without a word and headed for the doors of the Great Hall. He was unsurprised when he felt the pinch of bony fingers as they curled around his upper arm just past the threshhold, but he could not stifle the gasp that accompanied them.

 

"You pusillanimous little shit!" Severus swore under his breath as his longer stride carried Draco forward almost faster than he could keep up. "Never have I seen such a dispicable display of cowardice!"

 

"Sev!" Draco pleaded lowly as he was hustled down the hallway, twisting in a futile attempt to escape the angry potionmaster's wrath. "Please! I'm sorry...you of all people know my father and I-"

 

"And you fed me to him knowing I have been keeping this secret on both yours and Potter's behalf! The trust your father had in me as a confidant and friend has been destroyed by your single gutless action..." he continued to grumble to himself in a similar fashion as he marched the two of them down the hallway.

 

"Wh-where are we going, Sev?" Draco asked, feeling the blood drain from his face.

 

"Where are we going? Where are we going?" Severus' tone jacked as he mocked Draco. "We're going to my office, where you can floo your father and tell him yourself, like the mature, respectable, Slytherin man that you are supposed to be, rather than the snivelling, cowardly brat that you embodied yesterday."

 

"Oh, Salazar, no!" Draco groaned, but had no choice but to continue walking; it was that, or be dragged through the corridor like a beligerent toddler.

 

When they arrived at Severus' office, he slammed the door so hard that it rebounded on the frame, swinging open and closed again. Then, he flung Draco down into a chair that faced the fire, snatched up a handful of floo powder, and tossed it into the hearth, calling for Lucius simultaneously. 

 

It was not long before Lucius' face appeared, looking dishevieled and disgruntled. "What is it now, Severus?!" He snapped, before his eyes focused on Draco. "You!"

 

"Father!" Draco began, nervously glancing at Severus for reassurance. There was none but his grim face. "Father, I-"

 

"You!" Lucius interrupted. There was a sudden whoosh as he came through into Severus' small office the three of them very nearly crowding the place. He grabbed two handfuls of Draco's robes and propelled him backward into the wall, unsettling one of the shelves with a voracious crash. "What do you have to say for yourself?!" Lucius demanded, ignoring Severus' call to calm down. "Have you any idea what you've done? You have singlehandedly managed to ruin the lives and reputations of three generations of Malfoy in a single fell swoop! You idiot child! You careless imbecile! Have you no brain? No decency? And Potter! What in Salazar's name were you thinking, consorting with Potter?" Lucius went on similarly, while Draco winged and danced in place, pinned by his father's own two hands.

 

No one seemed to have noticed that Severus had slipped from the room until his nasal drawl punctuated Lucius' reproach. "No, it is not a good time....NO, Mr. Potter, it most certainly does not concern you..."

 

Draco stumbled backward against the wall as Lucius suddenly released him. He watched in utter horror as his father pulled the door open, exposing Severus, and beside him, Potter. 

 

"Now, Lucius!" Severus said, and Draco yelled, "Father, no!" as Lucius similarly grabbed Harry Potter by the front of his vest and hauled him into Severus' office. Harry grabbed Lucius' hands for purchase, but was pushed onto his back on Severus' desk before anyone could stop them.

 

"Won't believe it until I see it with my own eyes!" Lucius argued loudly, fumbling as he dragged Potter's shirt out of his pants and up over his chest.

 

"Oh, God, fuck!" Potter swore, his eyes wide and scared as he struggled to both sit up and rearrange his clothing at once.

Growling, Lucius managed to palm Potter's burgeoning belly with one hand before Severus could get a good grip on him and haul him away. 

 

"Draco, take Potter and get out of my office, now!" Severus commanded. Neither of them needed to be told twice; Potter was already halfway to the door and Draco went scrambling after him. "And you!" He turned on Lucius next. "Are you out of your God-forsaken mind?"

 

They only made it halfway down the corridor before Potter went sidelong, grabbing the wall with his hand for purchase. "Are you alright?" Draco asked, dashing to catch up and slip his arm around Potter before the bugger went down again. Potter was pale and shaking, and his arm was curled protectively around his stomach. He shook his head indicating the affirmative, but either couldn't or wouldn't speak. "Salazar, my father, I...he...why did you...I don't know why he...I'm sorry, are you okay?" This time, Draco tentatively touched Potter's hand where it laid over his stomach.

 

"I didn't know what he was gonna...and I...you..." Potter burst into sudden tears and Draco felt his own anxiety surge.

 

"Oh, Merlin!" he exclaimed. "Salazar! Gotta get you to the infirmary...." Draco was trying to coax Potter down the hallway as he balked and sobbed, but finally relented and slung his arms around the other boy. "It's okay, it's okay..." he tried to assure him.

 

"Merlin's lacey knickers!" a female voice rang out. "It's Potter isn't it?"

 

Draco's head jerked up in time with Potter's, and both of their jaws dropped when they saw Pansy Parkinson sauntering jovially in their direction.

 

"Get out of here, Pansy!" Draco scowled, flicking his wand in her general direction.

 

She shrieked and ducked behind a nearby statue in an alcove. After a moment, she peaked her head around again. "I saw him take off after you and I just knew something was up. It is, isn't it? You're up the duff, Potter, aren't you? Draco said he'd gotten a wizard up the duff, and we didn't think it was even possible, but it's you, has to be, the way the two of you are carrying on. With his special magic. Of all people, it would be him, wouldn't it? Oh! Oh! I have to tell Millicent. And Blaise! And Daphne and Theo! Magic be damned! I may be a squib the rest of my life, but this is too bloody good to keep quiet! Harry Potter, pregnant. Who would have bloody thought! And you, Draco!" She snorted. "Buggering Potter on the sly-had all of us convinced that you hated him, didn't you? Well played, you sneaky, sneaky git!" She stopped suddenly in her tracks, a grin blossoming across her face. "How much do you think The Prophet would pay for a story like this?" Draco and Potter mirrored looks of horror, and she smile became more deviant. She took two slow steps backward, careful to keep behind the statue and out of firing range.

 

"Pansy!" Draco shouted at her, his arms tightening around Potter without thought. "Pans! Don't you dare!" But she was already speeding down the hallway, her robes flapping behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

It had taken more than a fair bribe on both Harry and Draco's behalf to purchase Pansy Parkinson's silence regarding Harry's pregnancy, but the galleons had bought an unbreakable oath for the gossip-bound witch, preventing her from even dropping hints or clues as to Harry's condition, and it was more than either of them could hope for.

 

Reluctantly and with a heavy heart, Harry wrote to Molly and Arthur Weasley to inform them of his condition and beg asylum in their home in the coming months. He had managed to persuade Dumbledoor to allow him to continue his studies by correspondance and firecall after the baby was born. Molly, after her initial shock, was only too happy to play the role of doting grandmother and promised to cheek Harry in check with his studies so that he could complete his schooling. He would be required to return for exams prior to graduation and send the results of all labs for direct examination by the professor (Snape was unwavering in that demand). 

 

 

Once Harry made it safely back to The Burrow for the winter holidays, began to regret his decision to include Molly on his secret. She was already following him around, offering to feed him, fetch something for him, or fluff his pillow at every turn; incessantly asking him if he was too hot or too cold and adjusting the temperature as she saw fit. He knew that he should be grateful, but he just wanted to be left alon. He wanted to hole himself up in his bedroom (Charlie and Bill's old one) with a few Quidditch magazines and alternate between reading the articles and tossing off to the fit blokes demonstrating exercises and plays. These days, his hormones were raging, and he was feeling hornier than he had in months. The latest shag with Malfoy had only served to whet his appetitie and he wanted more! More of Draco's hands digging into his shoulders and back as they desperately pressed their mouths together, tongues stabbing and dueling, hips rolling, sliding, panting--

 

 

"Harry? Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed. Why don't you have a bit of a kip and when you wake up, I'll have tea ready. Should I make the lemon biscuts again?" Molly offered as she bustled in to the living room where Harry was sitting with his feet propped up. The others were outside playing Quidditch, and Molly had proclaimed it too cold and icy for Harry to join them.

 

 

"I-" Harry blushed and wondered for a moment if Molly knew what he had been thinking about. But that was absurd. He nodded. "Yes, please, Molly. Thank you." He hauled himself to his feet, the weight and projection of his bump beginning to throw off his balance.

 

 

She ruffled his hair fondly before he turned and made his way up the stairs. "Not so fast!" Molly called up after him, admonishing. "You'll jostle the baby!" Harry rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn't see him.

 

 

When Harry came down for tea after his wank and nap, he was not surprised to see a letter waiting for him at his place. "From the Malfoy's, dear." 

Molly frowned and nodded to the letter, which was sealed with wax and stamped with their crest. "Again. They certainly don't take 'no' for an answer, do they?"

 

 

"Draco says they want me to come for Christmas." Harry responded after scanning the letter. "They've got gifts for me and, er, the baby."

 

 

Molly hummed and got up to slide more lemon biscuts on to Harry's plate. "I am sure Narcissa is just as excited as we are, dear. But I don't trust that Lucius, not as far as I could throw him. He's not got good self control, and thinks he's entitled, that one. More than the others. I'm not fond of the idea of you going alone. And besides, we'll have Christmas here with the family as usual. I would hate for you to miss that in favor of whatever elaborate affair they're catering in Wiltshire--"

 

Their conversation was cut short by the Weasley troupe returning from Quidditch, stomping their feet to shake the snow off and jostling one another in place at the cabinets to retrieve cups for tea and cocoa. Harry knew Molly was right, and it wasn't as though he wanted to spend time with the Malfoys either. But, he doubted there would be a way, tactful or not, that he would be able to sucessfully tell them to bugger off. Unfortunately, he was right. When his first answer went unanswered, Draco drafted another, and when Harry's RSVP was not forthcoming, there was another letter and another.

 

"Tenacious, that Draco Malfoy," Arthur said, hiding his smile behind his newspaper after dinner. "Could be worse, Harry. Could be he didn't want anything to do with the baby at all, and then where would you be?"

 

Harry rubbed his temples. "Enjoying my winter hols? Oof!" He clapped a hand over his belly and frowned. "A football player, that one is."

 

"Harry," Molly looked up from her knitting abruptly, the needles continuing to clack against one another. "Have you given any more thought to seeing a Healer?" Harry flinched and she frowned. "Now, Harry, this is a simple magtter of discretion, and all healers are bound by their vows to keep confidential matters to themselves,"

 

"Didn't stop Snape from telling Lucius Malfoy, did it?"

 

Molly sighed. "While I do think Severus made an error in his judgement, he is not a healer and any oaths he made were honor-bound, not magical. Harry, Madam Pomfrey is a talented witch, but her expertise is in reparing broken bones and off-setting menstrual cramps."

 

"And I am the only pregnant wizard to exist in the last century!" Harry argued, disgruntled. "No one's expertise can help me there!"

 

A thin line formed between Molly's lips. "Harry, just how do you think you are going to give birth to that baby, hm? Now, I'm no expert, despite birthing seven children of my own, but I am certain of one thing, and that is that you are going to need intervention of some sort. Wouldn't you rather have it at the hands of a trained professional who is both familiar with you and your condition than the first medi-witch or wizard you encounter in the emergency room at Saint Mungo's?"

 

Harry conceded with a sigh of his own, then a curt nod. "I guess you're right."

 

"Of course I am, dear." She brightened marginally. "I'll contact some people tomorrow, and I won't say your name until I know we've got someone we can trust." Molly returned her attention to her knitting, but only briefly. "And oh, how exciting!" She exclaimed suddenly. "They'll be able to tell us if it's a girl or boy!"

 

Harry groaned aloud. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know himself.


	14. Chapter 14

Molly Weasley did not slack when it came to finding a healer to attend Harry. Within a few days, she announced not only had she found the perfect person, but she'd booked an appointment for the following Tuesday. Harry trusted Molly and the other Weasley's implicitly, but he found he had reservations about seeing this woman, this Healer Nineveh. He did not want to admit that part of it was simply because she was a woman, and that had nothing to do with his faith in her competence, but moreso that she was a woman and he was a man, and, well, it seemed there ought to be more of an explanation than that, but it was so glaringly obvious to him, something more profound than cooties, but when he tried to verbalize his concerns, sounded very, sadly similar. The thought of being in a room in nothing but a paper gown amidst two women, being poked and prodded and assessed and clucked at sent him into a tizzy of monumental proportions.

 

 

And so it was on that Tuesday that Molly was bustling about with more cheerfulness than usual that Harry was forced to confront her and inform her of his decision to visit the clinic alone. By himself, that was, without escort. Molly's lips had thinned so much he was afraid her mouth was melting together. He had to reassure her several times that he would indeed go to the appointment and report back immediately with news and he would send for her if needed.

 

 

It was after much ado that Harry found himself kitty corner to the clinic, fifteen minutes early, even, for his appointment. He was hidden behind the invisibility cloak, and was happy for its cover, for no one could see the anxiety attack he was having. His thoughts raced nearly as wildly as his heartbeat. What if it was a girl? What if it was a boy? What if it was twins? What if it wasn't healthy? What if something was wrong? What could go wrong? What if they wanted to take it away from him? Or make him give it up for adoption? What if...what if...what if?

 

 

He hadn't wanted Molly there, and yet, now, he didn't want to be alone in that cold exam room, facing the news of his baby, news of complications, facing medical jargon and decisions, and Merlin knew what else. He wanted someone there with him, needed someone. Someone who would be objective, who could listen in the event that Harry freaked out or tuned out, hold his hand, and most importantly, keep his secrets...Someone like Draco...

 

 

Draco...Harry was certain the Malfoy family would never forgive him for refusing to come on Christmas. But if there was someone would understand his position on the matter, it would be Draco, wouldn't it? If he really cared a whit about Harry and their baby, he would come, wouldn't he?

 

 

Harry cast a hasty tempus. Seven minutes until the appointment. There was no way he could reach Draco in such a short period of time. He would have to do this alone...unless...yes, he would have to. He gripped his wand more tightly in his fist, licked the beaded sweat off his upper lip, then mustered his concentration and cast his patronus.

 

 

 

 

Draco was having afternoon tea with his parents, and would be hard pressed to say he was having a good time. His father had started off by grumbling about Potter's lack of manners regarding his refusal to attend holiday celebrations and was wholly ignorant of the effects that their last encounter may have had on the boy. Narcissa, ever the peacemaker, tried her hardest to distract him from going down that road again, but it was seemingly futile. Draco had just excused himself for an unecessary trip to the loo when a ghostly stag materialized out of the wall in the hallway and pulled up short in front of him, rearing up on hind legs before prancing to the side.

 

"Mafoy!" It took him a moment to realized the distressed voice belonged to the one and only Harry Potter. "I'm at the corner of Picton and Dutterin, in London. Come quickly, I need you!"

 

Draco blinked in surprise and just as quickly as the Patronus had arrived, it dashed off again. "Oh, bloody hell..." His heart was suddenly thumping in his chest at a ridiculous pace. 

 

"Draco? Who's there? We heard voices...." Lucius said as he came around the corner.

 

Seeing his father caused Draco to suddenly kick into gear. "It's Potter, I've got to go!" And without further explanation, he pulled his wand from his shirt sleeve and disapparated. He stumbled as his feet hit pavement, but righted himself before his knees could hit the ground. Swearing, he brushed himself off and began to look around, realizing he'd been foolish to apparate to the exact location. This was a busy Muggle street, and he was lucky that no one seemed to be paying any attention to his sudden arrival. "Potter?" He called into the whipping wind. Salazar, it was cold, freezing even, and here he was in a button-up and a thin vest. He'd left without so much as a thought for the weather. "Damnit, Potter!" He barked again, whirling. "Where are you?"

 

"Here!" Came a disembodied voice, causing Draco to startle. "Sorry!"

 

There was a shimmer in the scenery, and then suddenly, Potter was peeking out at him from a slice of...the bloody time-space continuum or something. "What the bloody fuck?" Potter reached out and pulled Draco toward him, and before Draco could protest, he found himself sharing very close quarters with Potter underneath what appeared to be a cloak.

 

"Shut up! You're alright!" Harry hissed, trying to push his hand over Draco's mouth.

 

"What're you...what is this?" Draco demanded, steadying himself with his hands on Potter's belly. Merlin, but he had gotten big since the last time he'd seen him.

 

"My dad's invisibility cloak," Potter over simplified. Oh. An invisibility cloak. Of course Harry Potter had one of those.

 

 

"What's going on? Are you alright?" Draco heard himself ask in a stage whisper.

 

"Yes," Potter said. "Er, no. I mean, not really. I'm freaking out. Molly made an appointment for me to see a healer, and I...I can't do this alone, and...oh my god, what if something is wrong with the baby? They're going to do a scan and what if they see something, and what am I supposed to do? God, Malfoy! I...and they'll be able to see if it's a boy or a girl, and I don't want to know and--"

 

Yes, Draco could clearly see now that Potter was hysterical. He grabbed him by the upper arms and gave him a bit of a shake. "Get a grip, Potter! Everything is going to be fine. You're fine and I'm fine, and the baby is just fine."

 

"Godric, what if it's 'babies'?" Harry gasped, his eyes wide and terrified.

 

Draco felt his stomach drop, and he was glad he hadn't indulged in more than two biscuts like he usually did. "Don't be stupid. You're not nearly large enough for twins," Draco heard himself say rationally. "First things first though. We're going inside, er, where ever it is that we're supposed to be. I'm freezing my bollocks off!"

 

When they arrived in side the clinic, Draco uncovered them, then had to grab Potter to keep him from bolting right back out the door. He checked them in, and was surprised to find that they were led directly back into a waiting room without having to wait, which would have been strange, except that there was no one in the waiting room anyway.

 

"Cleared the calendar for me," Potter explained, chewing on his nails. Draco drew his hand away from his mouth and wrapped his fingers around Potter's to keep them from going right back there. They were slightly wet with spit and sweat, and still cold from being outside. Draco tried not to think about it, which was easy enough, because his next thoughts focused on how tightly Potter was gripping his hand. "Merlin, are you trying to break my fing--" He cut himself off as a woman in healer's robes entered with a clip board. 

 

"Hello, Harry, you don't mind if I call you Harry, do you? I'm Healer Nineveh and I...Oh, hello there, Sir. I was expecting Molly Weasley...I'm Healer Ninveh, and you are?"

 

Draco blinked at realized that he was the sir in question. He extended his hand congenially and felt his own nerves begin to flutter. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."

 

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Lovely to meet you both. Harry, this is your...friend?"

 

"He's the father," Potter squeaked, suddenly sounding very small. Draco squeezed his hand, unsure whether he was providing or seeking reassurance.

 

"I see. Well, I'm so happy that you could come," The healer trained her eyes on Draco briefly. "Mrs. Weasley gave me the impression that the two of you were estranged..." The statement hung heavily and and awkward silence was shared by all. Finally, Healer Nineveh cleared her throat and examined her clip board again. "Well, Harry and Draco was it? Well. Let me tell you a bit about myself. I've been in the business of dealing with high risk pregnancies for, oh, about eleven years now and I've seen just about every complication and situation imaginable. Now, Harry, I will admit that your condition is a first for me, but I'd like to assure you that I have been reading everything I can get my hands on, and I am confident that you will be comfortable and safe in my care. Since you're coming to see me much later than is standard for my other clients, I'm going to be asking you a lot of questions up front, and when we've exhausted you with talking," she gave a small smile. "We'll do the physical part for the exam. Now, if you'd prefer, we can have Draco sit in the waiting room while we chat, and we can have him come back for the scan..."

 

"No!" Potter protested immediately. "I want him to stay."

 

Draco offered a small smile and patted Potter's hand, which was clutching him in an iron grip. "Fingers, Potter." He said out of the corner of his mouth, all the while nodding at the healer.

 

It turned out that Healer Nineveh did indeed have many questions. Some of them he was certain did not apply to Potter's treatment so much as a pure interest or research standpoint. But he found himself fascinated by some of Potter's answers regarding his experiences, and as time drew on, Potter began to relax slightly, slumping against Draco so that the curves of his stomach bulged against Draco's ribs. 

 

They were just about finished with the questioning when Draco felt a quick nudge against his torso. Simultaneously, Potter straightened and with a gasp, clapped his hand to the side of his belly. "Ruddy baby's awake!" he announced. "Doesn't go ten minutes without assaulting my insides, I tell you!"

 

Nineveh made another note on her clipboard. "The baby is very active then? That's a good sign, Harry."

 

"That...that was the baby's kick?" Draco said incredulously. His hands stretched toward Potter's belly, and he prodded the firm swell curiously. When he realized what he was doing, he snatched his hands back and felt his face start to burn.

 

"Here Malfoy," Potter said, drawing Draco's hands back down and placing them just so. Then, he nudged the exact opposite end of his belly from where Draco's hands were. "That'll get 'im going,"

 

"Careful!" Draco frowned. It seemed Potter was a little violent toward himself, and if it was affecting the baby then...

 

"There!" Potter beamed. "Didya feel it?"

 

Draco startled at the force of the kick he felt against his palm, then gave a hesitant nod.

 

They had both forgotten the healer was there, until she cleared her throat. She indulged them with what appeared to be a geniune smile before offering Potter a paper gown. "Draco? Why don't you come with me a moment? I'll show you where you can get yourself a drink, and we'll let Harry have a bit of privacy to get undressed. Then comes the exciting part!"

 

Potter suddenly paled and looked nervous again. Draco pushed himself to his feet and smiled at him. "I'll just be a minute, Potter. No need to get flustered, I'll be right back."

 

Potter nodded, and the healer said, "Good man," and led Draco out of the room with her hand on his shoulder.

 

Draco poured himself a paper cup of water from a dispenser. "Potter can have some too, right?" He held up the re-filled cup to the healer. He figured if he was parched, Harry was probably bone dry, after all, he'd been doing most of the talking.

 

"Of course he can," The healer said with a patronizing smile. "It's very nice of you to think of him...but do you mind if I ask you something? The two of you are going to have a baby...is there a reason you address eachother by your surnames?"

 

"Er, force of habit?" Draco said somewhat sheepishly.

 

"Let me ask you something else," the healer said, stooping to pour her own drink. "Are you planning on helping Harry with this baby? Babies are a lot of work, you know. Especially for boys, er, young men like yourselves who are still in wizarding school."

 

"I know," Draco said. He didn't want to say anything else, but there was something compelling about her that made him feel like he had to respond. "My family wants the baby. I mean, they want to help us care for it. Potter doesn't have a real family, except for some stinking Muggles, and from what he's told me,they don't even know he's up the duff. I'm trying, but he just doesn't want see it our way. It would be better, you know? We have The Manor, it's huge, and between my mother, the elves, and father's vault, the baby wouldn't ever want for anything, but he's got it in his head that he's going to do this alone, Salazar, probably going to have the Weasley's help him, like they've the room or the money, but what can you do? He's Potter...you know, stubborn."

 

"Well, it seems the two of you have some more talking to do," Nineveh said in that way that grown-ups did when they were humoring small children. "You're young yet, but it seems like the both of you want what's best for this baby, and that's a great start. Let's go see if Harry is ready. Do you know what he's hoping for? How about you, Dad, would you like a little boy, or a little girl?"


	15. Chapter 15

Potter looked ridiculous in the light blue gown that crinkled every time he shifted or breathed. Draco's initial snort of pleasure at the sight earned him a stern look from Healer Nineveh and he swallowed any of the comments he could have made and sheepishly offered him the cup of water he'd brought him instead. Potter looked grateful and swallowed it down, then nervously kicked his feet against the examination table.

 

 

The healer took a long time adjusting the drape over Potter's lap and putting pillows under his knees before liberlly coating Potter's -- damn it all the healer was right-- Harry's bared stomach with a gelatinous goop that she said would help sort Harry's magical signature from the babies. Then, she began a complicated dance of wand and spellwork that had the final outcome of projecting a fuzzy picture of what Draco could only assume were Harry's insides on a screen that the healer had pulled up beside Harry for just that purpose.

 

 

She was quiet for some time as she, presumably, oriented herself, and Draco could tell it was freaking Harry out. "Now, what are we looking at here?" Draco asked in his most studious voice.

 

 

Nineveh flashed him a look that begged for patience and waved her wand around a few more times before settling onto a scene she was aparently familiar with. "Alright boys. Harry, this is your uter-hunh. Alright. Well, we'll call it your womb. See here?" And she traced a thick grey line on the screen with her finger. "The anatomy is simply amazing!" She appeared to comment to herself. "Do you know that I might be the very first--" She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and smiled widely. "Alright, okay, Nineveh. Harry, my apologies. This is an exciting time for all of us. Here...here is your baby." She pointed to another grey blur which looked like a circle attached to an oval.

 

 

"That's a baby?" Harry choked. "My god, what's wrong with it?"

 

 

"Oh, no sweetheart. There's nothing wrong. The scope of this first scan isn't very detailed, but it will allow me to take basic measurements for growth, and in a moment, we'll be able to hear the heartbeat." Looking at the screen, she began to wave her wand again, humming in approval and making notes on her clipboard. Then, a strange swishing sounded, starling both Harry and Draco. "We can't get rid of your magical signature entirely, Harry, and that's why it sounds like that, but do you hear that?" And she mimicked one of the sounds going on. "That's the heartbeat. It's quite strong, actually, and in the normal range. Let me just do some quick arithmancy and...yes, that's about right. Your baby is consistent with six months gestation, that right?" When the boys nodded, she went on. "Alright, now we'll change the spell a bit, get in a wee closer. Here," She twisted her wrist and murmured an incantation, sighing when the picture on the screen zoomed in on the baby's face, and some of the fuzziness cleared. "It's in profile, you can see the forehead, nose, mouth, chin..." She pointed out the obvious and indicated with her fingertip.

 

 

Draco and Harry stared in quiet awe, until Potter burst the moment by declaring, "Rather pointy looking, isn't it?"

 

 

Draco had been wondering if it was too soon to declare that the baby looked like him, and curled his lip at Potter, curbing his urge to punch the other boy in the shoulder at the last moment. "Git."

 

 

The healer subtly rolled her eyes and continued the scan. "Oh, look, there's a hand coming up to say, 'Hello, Papas!'...and five fingers, good...here's the chest...we see the ribs and the belly...feet pulled up, ten toes, there's the sweet little bottom, and...are you ready for the news?"

 

 

"No!" Harry blurted suddenly, half sitting and making the scan flicker. "No, don't tell me! I don't want to know!"

 

 

Draco and the healer blinked at Harry. "What?" Draco said. "What's the matter with you? Lay back. Why don't you want to know?"

 

 

Harry was taking great heaving breaths and tears filled the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill. "It's too much. And I...I don't want to know. If I know, then it...I'll...no."

 

 

Draco opened his mouth and then promptly shut it. His opinion here didn't hold any merit. Potter --ugh-- Harry was the one carrying the sodding baby. He was a teenage mother-father. He was probably the only living pregnant wizard on the planet. If he wanted to freak out and selfishly declare he didn't want to know the sex of their baby, then he could do that. Draco was not unique. There were probably a thousand unwed teenage fathers in the UK, and at least a dozen of them were wizards. So, unless he wanted to stick his foot in his mouth again, and infront of the healer who had the uncanny ability to make him feel like a total arsehole (better even than Severus could), he was just going to sit there and agree.

 

 

"This is common," Nineveh explained patiently. She removed her wand momentarily and the picture went static. "Harry, not knowing the sex of your baby is not going to make this any less real. In three months, you are going to have a baby. It might be helpful if you and those around you were prepared, and clothing is a favorite item to gift by doting witches. Now, it is absolutely your choice if you would rather be surprised, and we can always look again at a subsequent examination, in another couple of weeks or so--"

 

 

"Couple of weeks!?" Harry protested. "Isn't it just the once? You said everything was alright!"

 

 

"Yes, Harry, everything is alright at this time but you're a special case and we need to monitor the progress closely. Not to frighten you, but there are so many things that can go wrong, and it's best if we keep an eye on you and make sure you and the baby are both safe. If anything is amiss, we will need the time to schedule an operating room, inform the hospital of your stay, and arrange for the appropriate privacies."

 

 

"Operating room?!" Harry would latch on to that one word.

 

 

"Yes, Harry. We'll need to remove the baby some how, and I don't think you'll be capable of natural child birth, given the route of...ah," She flushed slightly. "Impregnation."

 

 

"Oh." Harry blushed and Draco's cheeks burned red. Another akward moment.

 

 

"It might be one less thing for you to worry about," Healer Nineveh sggested. "But if you'd rather not, I certainly understand."

 

 

"Potter," Draco said, then winced. "Er, Harry. I don't know about you, but when my mother finds out we've been for a scan and I can't tell her the sex of the baby, she might just go round the twist..."

 

 

Harry cast a great sigh. "Molly too." He was quiet for a few minutes, then nodded at the screen. "Okay. I'm ready. What is it?"


	16. Chapter 16

"I trust you'll be seeing him home?" Said Healer Nineveh to Draco.

 

Harry watched as Draco bit his lip, waffling. "I suppose I can. I mean, if you think I should."

 

"Absolutely," She nodded. "Harry's in a fragile state and he's going to need your support now, Draco. As much as you can give him. You seem to have some reservations about accompanying Harry home. Can I ask why?"

 

"It's only that...I don't imagine I'll be welcome. The Weasleys'...well, that is...our families have a...er...history." Draco said, glancing briefly at Harry and then away.

 

“Molly isn’t like that!” Harry blurted. “She wouldn’t hold your parents against you. Your...heritage...whatever.”

 

“We’re purebloods,” Draco sniffed.

 

“So are they,” Harry rolled his eyes. The only difference between them and you is that they care more about love than money.

 

Draco disentangled his fingers from Harry’s hand and shoved it aside. “Is that what you think about me and my family? That we only care about money?”

 

“Boys...ahem, gentlemen!” The healer butted in. “That’s enough! I won’t have any fighting in my office! Now that you’re going to be parents, you might want to consider acting like grown-ups rather than squawking little blighters! Clearly everyone has some misconceptions about one another and I, for one, think now is a wonderful time for getting to know each-other properly. You might consider a civil meeting rather than blind accusations, but then again, that’s your business. May I suggest bonding over a nice cup of tea and some cakes? Hmm?” The healer looked pointedly at each of them, both already turning pink from the chastisement. “Now, Draco, if you are unable to escort Harry home, I shall have to do it myself.”

 

“I can do it,” Draco grumbled.

 

“Good, now that’s settled. Harry, I want you to take it easy from here on out. And remember what I said: no more glamours, they can have lasting affects on your baby now that you’re moving into the third trimester.”

 

Harry nodded and heaved a great sigh. There would be no returning to Hogwarts without a glamour. It was probably for the best, since he was running out of excuses for his increasingly slowed waddle, and Snape had yet to overlook Harry’s tardiness to class; Harry was more than sick of writing lines and reciting verses from “The Witches and Wizard’s Handbook on Innocuous Intercourse”. And while the prospect of skiving off of classes for the remainder of the school year seemed well and good on paper, the fact of the matter was that it meant he was going to have to put up with being Molly-coddled (literally) for the indefinite future.

 

“Now Harry, we’ll leave you to get dressed, and meet you in the waiting room when you’re finished. Alright?”

 

Harry nodded and rubbed absently at the paper gown until they left. He took his time pulling on his clothes, though he had to cram his feet into his trainers without tying them. Bending over put too much pressure on his middle and he couldn’t be arsed to make the effort it would take to sit back down and put them on properly. His brain felt muddled. He wanted to take a nap. He’d been honest when he said that knowing the sex of the baby would make things too real, and now here he was. There was no more denying it. He was going to have a baby. With Draco Malfoy. They were going to roll him into St. Mungo’s, gut him, and plop a screaming baby on his chest. Just fucking brilliant.

 

“Alright in there, Harry?” Came a muffled voice from behind the door.

 

Harry sighed, scrubbed the budding tears away from his eyes and let the door swing open. The Healer smiled at him and he tried to make the corners of his mouth quirk up, but they felt leaden.

 

“Relax,” Healer Nineveh said, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him out of the exam room. “You’re not the first teenager to have an unplanned pregnancy. I know things are a bit different in your case, but every single witch I’ve had in my office has had the same fears. Now, I’ve given Draco some pamphlets on caring for babies. You’ll want to read them too, but of course, you’ve still plenty of time. So, buck up, and I’ll see you again in a few weeks, alright?” She smiled at Draco as she lifted Harry’s hand and put it into Draco’s. “Take good care of each-other. You’ll need all the support you can get. Raising a baby is tough, and it’s even tougher if you have to do it alone.” Nineveh ushered them both toward the door.

 

Harry tugged free of Draco’s grasp, unfolded the Invisibility Cloak and swung it over his shoulders. As his body disappeared from sight, the healer gave a small squeal of surprise. Then, looking embarrassed, she said, “Merlin, you sure are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

 

“I hate that bloody thing,” Draco agreed as he crammed the stack of pamphlets in his back pocket. “Potter-” Then he amended, “Harry, give me your arm so I can Apparate us. Er, thank you for your time, Healer.”

 

“Pleasure’s mine,” She said with a wave. “It was so lovely meeting the both of you. Ta-ta!”

 

“Right.” Draco said and tugged Harry out the door. 

 

“Salazar,” Draco cursed under his breath. “Let’s go then. I ran out on tea time so fast, my mother will be beside herself. Let’s get you home, and then I’ve got to go before I land in any more trouble.”

 

When they arrived at the Burrow, Harry found he had wrapped himself tightly against Draco’s torso. His face was buried in the crook of Draco’s shoulder, and the musky scent that had been subtly teasing him since Draco arrived was amplified there. He inhaled deeply and rubbed his face against the warm skin. "Mmmm,” he sighed.

 

“Potter...” Draco’s tone was laced with amusement. “Are you smelling me?”

 

“...S’bloody fantastic!” Harry admitted, sliding two of his fingers beneath the belt at Draco’s back. He was suddenly overtaken by the need to feel more of Draco’s skin against him. He quickly tugged the shirt free and pressed his palm flat against Draco’s back.

 

Draco yelped in surprise or protest and tried to pull free of Harry’s embrace. “Salazar! Have you gone ‘round the twist? What are you doing? It’s bloody cold out here!”

 

“I’ll warm you up,” Harry boldly offered and grinned. “Or you can warm me up. We can warm each-other.”

 

“What the hell are you going on about?”

 

“Fancy a shag, Malfoy?” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear, then licked the shell.

 

Draco stuttered a moment. “I told you, I’ve, uh, got to get home. And besides, I’m sure your...Mrs. Weasley is expecting you.”

 

“Haven’t you got five minutes?” Harry goaded as Draco finally freed himself.

 

Draco groaned and stuffed a hand in his pocket, turning to the side. Harry knew he was pushing down on his erection. He’d felt it crop up against his stomach while they were pressed together. “It’ll take more than five, what do you think I am?”

 

Harry looked at him pointedly. “If you’re anything like me, you can rub one out in under a minute if you had to. We both know this,” he gestured to his belly, “wasn’t an all-night seduction either. Come on, Malfoy. I’ve been horny for weeks. You smell bloody good and I could use something to take my mind off of-” Harry’s missive was cut off as Draco launched into him and mashed their mouths together.

 

“We’re going to get caught,” Draco grumbled into his mouth as he undid his belt. Isn’t there a place to-”

 

“Tool shed,” Harry replied, pushing Draco backward.

 

They were halfway to their destination, still sucking at one another’s faces and rubbing together when a terrible sound startled them, breaking them apart. It was something along the lines of, “Harry James Potter, that had better be Gilderoy Lockheart that you’re wrapped around in my front yard, otherwise you are in trouble!” It was Molly, and she did not sound amused.

 

Harry flushed purple and beside him, Draco was fumbling (fumbling!) to clasp his belt and right his clothing. “Mrs. Weasley,” Draco managed to sound smooth somehow. “I was just bringing Harry home,”

 

“I know my home is no sprawling manor Mr. Malfoy, but I have trouble believing that you mistook my tool shed for our humble home.”

 

“No, Ma’am.” Draco replied and Harry hazarded a glance sideways to confirm that Draco’s face was just as red as his own.

 

“I think you had both better come inside before you catch your death of cold. No sense between the two of you.” She held the door open for them, scolding Harry as he passed. “And you, in your condition. You should know better!”

 

There was a joke at the tip of Harry’s tongue, but the look on Molly’s face squelched it before it came to fruition.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, Severus has already fire-called, asking after you. You had better firecall home first,” She directed Draco toward the floo. “When you’re finished, you come sit down in my kitchen. I want to talk to you boys.”

 

“Maybe I should just floo home?” Draco said almost hopefully.

 

“You just let your parents know you’re alright and you’ll be staying for a cup of tea. I won’t take no for an answer,”

 

Draco swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” Harry followed Molly into the kitchen with an apologetic backwards glance.

 

“You sit down, young man.” Molly said with an authoritative point to the table. She put the kettle on with a bang. “Now, I know you think there’s nothing to be done since you’re already with child, and I know you’re a teenage boy, so help me, I know...but I have rules in this house, and while you’re here, I expect that you’ll follow them...”

 

Harry was the recipient of the classic “No sexual acts under my roof until you are married” spiel, and when she was finished, he looked up to see Draco standing in the doorway. Molly simply nodded at the chair next to Harry.

“I trust you heard me as well.”

 

“Yes Ma’am,” Draco said again as he sat stiffly.

 

“Good. Now how do you take your tea, Dear?”

 

Draco blinked. “Er, two sugars, please.”

 

“Lovely,” with a flick of her wand, Molly sent a cup of tea his way. She sipped her own and uncovered a tray of cakes on the table.

 

“Now that we’ve got the business out of the way...Mr. Malfoy...may I call you Draco?  
She wrinkled her nose. “Mr. Malfoy is your father, don’t you think? You’re much too young for that title just yet. Now, Draco, have you been to the appointment with Harry? You must have.” She reached over to pat Harry's hand. "Next time Dear, just take Draco along from the start. I was worried, thinking you were going alone, and Draco's sudden departure gave Mrs. Malfoy quite a fright."

 

Harry hung his head and grumbled an apology.

 

"Well, you can make it up to me by telling me the sex of the baby." Molly grinned. "And shame on you both for making me put off finding out! Come on then, out with it! Will it be a bouncing boy or a giggling girl?"

 

Harry and Draco looked at one another, exchanging tentative smiles.

 

"It's a-"

 

"Wait, Harry, don't! " Draco clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "I forgot that I promised my mother she'd be the first to know once I found out!"

 

"But I promised Molly!" Harry argued, pushing his hand away.

 

"Boys, boys..." Molly said with a shake of her head. "There's one solution to this...you boys sit here. Draco, I'm going to firecall your mother..."


	17. Chapter 17

Harry hung back behind Molly, pretending to be occupied in brushing extraneous floo powder from his skin. Narcissa Malfoy cornered him anyway. The smile on her face was warm, and thus, even more disconcerting to Harry. 

 

“I’m so glad that we finally have the opportunity to meet Mr. Potter. I am aware that you know of me, but allow me to formally introduce myself.” She extended her petite hand. “Narcissa Malfoy. I would be most pleased if you called me Narcissa.”

 

“Harry,” Harry replied weakly and received her hand. He shook it lightly and wondered after doing so if he should have kissed it instead.

 

Narcissa smiled and still holding onto Harry, placed her free hand atop his, giving it a gentle pat. “I do apologize that my husband is not able to join us. He has been called away on business at the last minute and will not return for some time. It is my understanding that Lucius has been...rather aggressive in the past, but I assure you that he is now much more receptive to our burgeoning situation. I do apologize on his behalf for anything he may have said or done to upset you, Harry.”

 

“Uh, thanks...” Harry replied, relaxing slightly at the news that Lucius would not be present today, although entirely disbelieving the idea that Lucius had set aside his feelings toward Harry or his “situation”.

 

“It is lovely to see you again, Mrs. Weasley.” Narcissa said with a polite tip of her head. “Can I invite you both into my sitting room for a spot of tea? Draco, escort Mrs. Weasley properly, will you? Tippy, we are ready for tea service, please.”

 

The four of them settled down as the house elf brought the cart in. After Harry had made his selections from the generous tier of treats and sandwiches, Narcissa addressed him again. "How are you feeling these days, Mr. Potter...Forgive me, Harry? When Draco made his hasty departure this afternoon, we feared the worst. Having been confined to the bedchamber while I was carrying Draco, I can certainly appreciate your situation and commiserate with you regarding the havoc pregnancy wreaks on those of us with a more delicate constitution." Her eyes flickered briefly to Molly.

 

Molly's lips thinned but to her credit, did not take the bait. 

 

Harry squirmed in his high backed chair. "I feel fine, thanks. I mean, thank you Mrs. Malfoy. Narcissa. I had a check up this afternoon with the healer. My first. I thought I wanted to go alone but when I got there I changed my mind. But I didn't want to trouble Molly. And then I thought maybe Malf- er, Draco'd want to be there anyway. Should be there. But I was already almost late, and the fastest way was just to send the patronus but I didn't mean to interrupt your tea time and I'm sorry if I scared you..." he started to babble and was already feeling out of sorts.

 

"It's quite alright," Narcissa interrupted with a kind smile. “I’m glad to hear you’re of hardier stock. Perhaps, it means that you’ll be capable of carrying more than one Malfoy heir to term. It has been several generations since that feat has been accomplished.” She paused to gaze adoringly at Draco. “I would so have loved a sibling for Draco, but my little dragon was so determined to be an only child, he all but obliterated my insides-”

 

“Mother!” Draco cried in horror. It was the first time he’d spoken since their arrival at Malfoy Manor. “That is most certainly not a tale for polite company! Or any sort of company! And are you implying that Potter and I should...” he flapped his hand limply. “Again?! Salazar, have you lost yo-”

 

“Mind your tone, Draco,” Narcissa reproved. “These tales are exactly the kind women share when one amongst them has befallen pregnant. Now, I am not to be begrudged my story simply because your mating choice was unconventional. Would you agree?”

 

While Draco’s mouth was flapping open and shut, Molly leaned forward slightly and blew on her tea. “Forgive me for interrupting your story, and, what a story it is, Mrs. Malfoy. But, might I remind you that there is news to be had? Joyous news, at that. And I for one am eager to hear it. Now, Harry, dear, if you don’t mind...”

 

“Girl,” Harry blurted, eager to change the topic and move this uncomfortable meeting along as quickly as possible. “It’s a girl.”

 

There was a shriek, and Molly was on her feet in an instant, doing some sort of jig right there in the sitting room. Tippy the house elf was beside quickly beside her and grabbing at the tea cup which was sloshing all over the rug. Luckily, Molly relinquished it without a word.

 

Narcissa made a reserved sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, then began dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh, Draco,” She beamed at him through her tears until Molly caught her by the wrist and tugged her to her feet, giving her a solid embrace. 

 

When Molly pulled back, she clasped Narcissa’s hands and swung her in a half circle. “Come on now, Narcissa! Surely an occasion such as this calls for celebration! We’re to be grandmothers together! A granddaughter! A sweet little girl to coo at, and dress in frilly pink things!”

 

“There’ll be tea parties,” Narcissa said carefully but there was a gleam in her eye. “And balls, and dress robes, and visits to the salon, and shopping trips,” She said, her tone catching mroe excitement as her list grew.

 

“And gardening, baking, and crafting,” Molly added.

 

“Oh,” Narcissa said, pulling Molly toward the settee with her. “The nursery!”

 

“Nurseries,” Molly corrected. “If you think you’re to have custody-”

 

Narcissa waved her off imperiously. “Of course, nurseries. Tippy! Come at once and take dictation...”

 

“Oh, for the love of Salazar Slytherin!” Draco said, throwing his hands in the air and rolling his eyes. “See what you’ve gone and done now?”

 

“Me?” Harry said. “You’re just as guil-”

 

“Shut it, dummy.” Draco climbed to his feet then beckoned to Harry to follow him as he made to depart. At the last minute, he offered Harry his hand and helped pull him up, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll just leave the two of you to it then, yeah?”

 

Narcissa made an impatient shooing motion at them and continued to chat conspiratorially.

 

“C’mon,” Draco said as he lead Harry toward the great marbled staircase. “I’ll show you to my suite,”

 

“Your what?” 

 

“My bedroom, you twat.”

 

“Is that anyway to speak to the father of your child?” Harry joked, using his most aristocratic tone.

 

“You’re the one up the duff,” Draco tossed over his shoulder as he climbed. “If anything, you’re the mother. I’m clearly the father.”

 

“You’re clearly a tosser,” Harry grumbled. “Will you slow down? As you so astutely pointed out, I’m up the duff, and your baby is crowding my lungs.” He paused halfway up the flight to catch his breath.

 

Draco descended several steps, coming around the back of Harry and pushing him up the stairs from behind. “Perhaps you need a lay down if you’re so tired. Let me help you to the top...”

 

“Oy!” Harry complained, clutching his stomach with one hand and the stair rail with the other. “Where are you shoving me so fast?”

 

“I thought we might be able to squeeze in a quick round of ‘Who's your Daddy?’ while the women are occupied, unless you’re opposed?”

 

“Draco!” Harry said in an exasperated tone.

 

“Look, what are you worried about? They’ll be at it for hours. Or at least ‘til half-past. As you were so quick to point out, we only need five minutes, and they make silencing charms for a reason. By the time anyone realizes we’re really gone, we’ll have already caught our breath.”

 

“I’m already out of breath!” he complained. “Vigorous activity may just kill me at this stage.” As though to prove his point, Harry nearly tripped at the top of the landing and flung his arms outward. 

Draco caught Harry and pulled him back against him with a grin. He licked Harry’s ear, then purred, “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You just lay back and let me do the work.”


	18. Chapter 18

Ever since Molly and Narcissa had bonded over planning their future granddaughter's bedroom schemes from birth until marriage, the two of them had teamed up to accomplish other feats, including scheming to get their boys together permanently.

Luckily for them, Narcissa was of the mindset that it was healthy for the boys to spend quality time alone, bonding. Practically overnight, Harry revised his decision not to visit the Malfoy home and started spending as much time as Molly would allow there.

It was the day before New Year’s Eve and Harry and Draco were laying in Draco’s bed, post shag. Draco had his head on Harry’s hip and was idly stroking the area around Harry’s belly button, which was poking out in a rather strange manner. “I don’t see where it makes a difference. There is going to be speculation about you not returning to school after the hols, and the press will find out why eventually. Someone is going to slip, or you’ll be seen with the baby. May as well just finish out as much of the term as you can, and sod anyone who has anything to say about it.”

"Easy for you to say," Harry argued. "You're not the one who has to suffer through the teasing or the uncomfortable furniture or the magical disturbances as the baby grows...."

"You'd rather spend your days, nights and in between with Mrs. Weasley from here on forward?" Draco lifted an eyebrow.

Harry snorted. "Merlin,no."

"Then come back to Hogwarts..." Draco tickled the inside of Harry's thigh and nuzzled the soft underside of his belly. "Keep up our daily shagging ritual at the very least...I've grown rather accustomed to it myself."

"Prat," Harry sighed. "Very well. I'll have to alert Molly and Dumbledore."

Draco grinned and curled his fingers around Harry's sticky and softened length. "Can you go again before dinner?"

"I suspect you'll convince me," Harry grunted and pushed his hips forward.

"I can be very persuasive." Draco agreed and clambered onto his knees, moving between Harry's spread thighs.

Before things could progress further, there was a cursory knock on the door. Then, it swung open, leaving the boys scrabbling to cover themselves with throws and pillows. Lucius stepped neatly into the room, pausing to close the door behind him. Beneath his cool appraisal, Harry withered and Draco's cheeks burned.

"Dress," Lucius commanded. "For we have much to discuss."

"Shall we meet in the study?" Draco prompted. It was nearly a plea.

"Modest now, are we?" Lucius chuckled humorlessly but canted his head in acquiescence. His gaze lingered on Harry's swollen belly, or perhaps Draco's hand, which rested atop it. "Five minutes, gentlemen. Do not forget, I am an impatient man." He turned on his heel and departed as quickly as he had arrived.

When they arrived,a house-elf was waiting with a two fingers of firewhisky for Draco and what smelled like apple cider for Harry. They lowered themselves into matching leather chairs that faced Lucius. Beyond him, a fire popped and crackled.

"What news, Father?" Draco asked, swirling his glass as though he were accustomed to such a beverage.

Lucius raised his own glass in salutation. He looked like he was fighting to keep a sneer from curling his lip. "Allow me to be the first to congratulate you both on your upcoming nuptials."

"Nuptials?" Harry echoed dumbly.

Draco looked stricken. "But Father! We're not...we haven't... I'm only...."

"You can, you shall, and you will." Lucius intoned seriously. "Malfoys do not sire bastard children, Draco. It is enough that I shall suffer the scorn and judgements of society on behalf of the situation alone; I will not have it compounded by your blatant disregard for our traditions and rituals."

"But when?" Draco stammered, looking everywhere but his father's face.

"Imbolic." Lucius said, tossing back his drink and passing the empty glass to the house elf as he stood and moved before the fire.

"But that's in three days!" Draco protested.

"It will be a blessing for you both. I regret that I did not think of it sooner, but it cannot be helped. At any rate, the ceremony and the reception to follow will be necessarily small." Lucius' eyes narrowed in Harry's direction. "Well, as small as the Weasley family can keep it. I trust there will be no Muggles in attendance, Mr. Potter?"

Harry tried to sink into the arm chair rather than answer. He was too terrified of Lucius to argue and it looked as though Draco felt much the same. When Harry failed to answer, Lucius nodded.

"Very well, then. We shall inform the womenfolk over dinner." The house-elf returned to Lucius' side with another drink and he downed it as well. "In the meanwhile, the three of us shall endeavor to contain our bubbling enthusiasm over welcoming Mr. Potter to the family. Cigar, Draco? I suppose I ought to extend all the accoutrements for such a joyous occasion."

Draco gulped and held out a slightly trembling hand, shooting Harry an apologetic look. There was nothing else to be done. Lucius, patriarch and signet, had spoken.


End file.
